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^A  FAMILY   FEUD 


.A.i"rEi2,    THE     (3- E  n nvr  A. IT 


LUDWIG    HARDER 


BY  MRS.  A.  L.  WISTER 

TBANSLATOB  OF  "  THE  SECOND  WIFE,"  "  ONLY  A  GIRL,"  "  THE  OLD  MAM^SBLLB't 
SECRET,"  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT  &  CO. 

1877  ^ 

11. li 


Copyright,  1877,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  4  Co. 


A^3   F3/3 


A  FAMILY  FEUD. 


CHAPTER    I. 


The  scene  of  our  story  is  a  province  of  Germany  which, 
but  moderately  provided  with  railways,  and  almost  secluded 
from  the  busy  traffic  of  the  present  century,  may  be  regarded 
as  the  very  paradise  of  a  landed  aristocracy.  It  was  towards 
the  close  of  the  summer ;  the  sun  was  declining  in  the  west, — 
its  rays  beamed  with  mocking  splendour  full  in  the  faces  of 
the  light-haired,  dull-faced  peasants,  who  were  occupied  in 
gathering  in  their  master's  grain,  and  stole  brightly  from  the 
busy  harvest-fields  into  the  gray  stillness  of  the  old  mansion- 
house  of  Buchdorf,  which  lay  with  its  front  looking  abroad 
into  the  green  alleys  of  the  park,  while  the  windows  at  the 
back  opened  upon  the  spacious  ill-paved  court-yard  surrounded 
by  the  farm-buildings  and  opening  into  the  ancient  avenue  of 
lindens. 

For  miles  around,  forests,  pasture-land,  and  cultured  fields 
all  belonged  to  the  Arning  estate.  Its  present  possessor  was 
a  childless  man  of  fifty-five,  sturdy  and  well  built  in  figure, 
with  a  sunburned  face  and  blue  eyes  that  beamed  with  good 
humour.  He  troubled  himself  not  at  all  about  the  world  in 
general,  and  very  little  indeed  about  the  smaller  world  of  his 
own  estates,  of  which  he,  Kurt  von  Arning,  owned  four, — 
Ermsdal,  the  only  one  strictly  entailed  in  the  male  line,  Buch- 
dorf, Harsbye,  and  Grasort.  He  had  taken  up  his  abode  in 
Buchdorf,  the  largest  of  the  four,  and  there  he  lived  from 

1*  5 


6  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

year's  end  to  year's  end,  content  to  be  left  in  the  peaceful  en- 
joyment of  liis  arm-chair  after  a  somewhat  stormy  experience 
of  married  life.  He  was  a  genial  companion,  given  to  hospi- 
tality, and,  even  where  it  cost  him  trouble,  the  most  benevolent 
of  masters  and  landlords. 

Thus  it  is  easy  to  understand  that  throughout  the  province, 
and,  indeed,  wherever  his  name  was  known,  Kurt  von  Arning 
was  an  object  of  cordial  good  will, — although  the  measure  of 
respect  accorded  him  among  his  tenantry  was  not  immense. 
The  centre  around  which  everything  upon  the  estates  revolved, 
the  master  whom  all  obeyed  without  a  murmur,  was  Otto  von 
Arning,  Kurt's  young  cousin,  the  boy  whom  he  had  declared 
•  the  heir  to  all  his  possessions. 

Before  we  say  anything  about  this  cousin,  let  us  give  one 
moment's  attention  to  the  recent  history  of  the  main  branch 
of  the  Von  Arning  family.  For  generations  its  chief  had 
always  occupied  its  entailed  property  of  Ermsdal,  and  both 
family  and  estate  had  deteriorated,  until  Kurt's  father  changed 
the  whole  aspect  of  affairs  by  boldly  setting  at  naught  aristo- 
cratic prtyudices  and  marr^'ing  a  bourgeoise  heiress,  who  added 
Buchdorf,  Harsbye,  and  Grasort  to  the  family  possessions. 
Kurt  was  the  sole  offspring  of  this  union,  and  upon  his  mar- 
riage, when  scarcely  twenty-one,  he  received  from  his  father 
Grasort  as  a  wedding-gift.  Here  he  passed  nearly  twenty 
years  as  unhappy  as  every  man  must  be  who  wakes  from  a 
dream  of  boyish  passion  to  find  himself  mated  with  a  thoroughly 
uncongenial  companion.  At  the  age  of  forty  he  returned  to 
Buchdorf,  a  childless  widower,  only  just  in  time  to  close  the 
eyes  of  the  father  whom  he  had  tenderly  loved,  and  who  had 
survived  his  wife  but  two  short  years.  As  the  child  of  a 
bourgeoise  mother,  Kurt  could  not  inherit  the  worthless  estate 
of  Ermsdal.  That  passed  to  the  baby  Otto  von  Arning, — 
sole  child  of  a  cousin,  who,  left  an  orphan  at  an  early  age,  had 
been  adopted  as  it  were  by  the  old  baron,  and  had  been  to 


A    FA  MIL  V  FEUD.  7 

Kurt,  during  all  his  boyhood  and  early  manhood,  as  a  brother. 
The  most  devoted  afi'ection  had  subsisted  between  the  two ; 
indeed,  on  one  occasion  when  the  lads  were  hunting  together, 
Kurt  owed  his  life  to  Ludwig  von  Arning's  intrepid  afi'ection. 
When  Kurt  left  Buchdorf  upon  his  marriage,  Ludwig  had  re- 
mained there  a  prop  and  stay  to  his  adopted  parents'  declining 
years, — only  leaving  them  three  years  before  the  old  baron's 
death  for  a  residence  in  the  capital,  where  the  Von  Arning  in- 
fluence procured  him  a  post  under  government,  upon  his 
marriage  to  the  high-born  but  needy  Augusta  von  Tretten. 
The  confinement  of  a  city  life,  however,  and  the  pressure  of 
new  duties,  ill  suited  a  man  whose  youth  had  been  passed 
amid  the  fresh  air  and  healthy  occupations  of  the  country. 
Ludwig  von  Arning  survived  but  by  a  few  months  his  wife, 
who  had  died  a  year  after  the  marriage  in  giving  birth  to  the 
little  Otto.  Kurt's  affection  and  care  soothed  his  cousin's 
last  moments.  No  blow  could  have  struck  more  heavily  the 
•warm-hearted,  easy  baron  than  the  loss  of  this  companion  of  his 
youth.  The  dying  man's  whole  thought  was  for  his  boy  Otto, 
and  Kurt  gladly  made  him  a  solemn  promise  to  regard  him  as 
his  own  son,  and  to  see  that  his  future  was  such  as  befitted 
their  ancient  name.  Thus,  when  Baron  Kurt  found  himself  a 
childless  man  alone  at  Buchdorf,.  well  cured,  as  he  thought,  of 
all  desire  fur  matrimony,  he  took  to  his  home  and  heart  the 
orphan  Otto  von  Arning,  who,  with  his  dead  mother's  elderly 
sister,  Bernhardinc  von  Tretten,  took  up  his  abode  beneath 
his  cousin's  roof,  and  was  regarded  by  all  as  his  future  heir. 
In  the  care  for  this  boy  the  kindly,  indolent  widower  had 
hitherto  found  all  the  occupation  he  desired  either  for  head 
or  for  heart. 

Frilulein  von  Tretten  was  a  canoness  of  a  poor  and  strict 

order  in  H ;  a  woman  of  about  Baron  Kurt's  age,  although 

looking  much  older  in  spite  of  foultless  teeth  and  hair  still  so 
dark  as  to  seem  in  certain  litrhts  bluo-black.     Above  this  hair 


8  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

the  white  muslin  high  cap  of  her  order  showed  in  strong  con- 
trast. Slie  wore  stiff  cuffs  of  snowy  linen  around  her  large 
bony  wrists,  and  the  collar  above  her  coarse  woollen  gown  was 
of  the  same  material.  Everything  about  this  woman,  from  her 
expressive  but  unattractive  face  to  her  deep  harsh  voice  an<l 
the  slight  trace  of  hair  on  her  upper  lip,  was  stiff,  ungainly, 
and  unfeniinine. 

Fourteen  years  had  passed  since  the  death  of  Baron  Kurt's 
father.  It  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  sunny  afternoon  in  August, 
and  Kurt,  who  troubled  himself  not  at  all  about  seed-time  or 
harvest,  was  absent  upon  one  of  his  frequent  visits  to  the 
capital. 

In  an  apartment  which  opened  by  folding-doors  upon  a 
great  stone  terrace  overlooking  the  court-yard  there  sat,  behind 
an  antique  table  covered  with  deeds  and  papers,  young  Otto 
von  Arning,  now  just  about  completing  his  sixteenth  year. 
He  would  have  been  thought  much  older;  in  his  large  gray 
eyes  there  were  discernible  great  determination  and  force  of 
intellect,  but  very  little  of  boyish  enthusiasm.  Undeveloped 
as  his  features  yet  were,  there  was  no  denying  their  expres- 
sion of  pride,  perhaps  not  unmingled  with  a  slight  degree  of 
youthful  arrogance. 

Upon  the  table  befoi'e  him  lay  open  his  cousin's  ledgers  for 
the  past  year.  He  had  undertaken  to  overlook  and  arrange 
them,  and  was  evidently  absorbed  in  his  work,  for  his  rather 
pale  face  had  become  slightly  flushed  as  he  bent  over  the 
books  and  the  columns  of  figures  grew  rapidly  beneath  his 
pen.  It  was  a  figure  to  interest  the  observer, — this  grave 
young  fellow,  with  manly  resolve  visible  through  all  the  boy- 
ishness of  his  age. 

Such  was,  doubtless,  Aunt  Bernhardine's  opinion  as  she  sat 
opposite  her  nephew  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  the  inevi- 
table knitting-needles  clicking  in  her  busy  fingers,  her  small 
black  eyes  resting  fVom  time  to  time  with  an  intense  gaze  that 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  9 

was  part  tenderness,  part  expectation,  upon  the  writer  at  the 
table.  She  had  ah'eady  made  several  attempts  to  attract  Otto's 
attention,  but  young  Arning  seemed  quite  lost  to  the  outer 
world.  He  sat  motionless,  except  for  an  impatient  toss  back 
now  and  then  of  the  lock  of  dark  hair  which  fell  too  low  upon 
his  broad  white  forehead.  Deep  silence  reigned  in  the  room, 
broken  only  by  the  buzzing  of  the  flies,  the  click  of  the  knit- 
ting-needles, and  the  scratching  of  Otto's  pen  upon  the  paper. 
The  cuckoo  upon  the  old-fashioned  clock  in  the  corner  had 
shrilly  declared  it  to  be  seven  o'clock,  and  Aunt  Bernhardine 
had  remarked,  "The  heat  has  lasted  a  long  while  to-day" — 
Otto  seemed  to  have  heard  neither;  but  suddenly  a  slight 
bustle  in  the  court-yard,  the  cautious  dragging  forth  of  a 
wagon,  arrested  his  attention. 

He  hastily  sprang  up  and  went  out  on  the  veranda.  The 
steward  and  several  labourers  were  dragging  a  large  wagon 
from  the  carriage-house. 

Otto  leaned  over  the  balustrade  of  the  veranda.  "  What 
are  you  doing  there,  Herr  Warne  ?"  he  called  down. 

The  man  whom  he  addressed  was  evidently  annoyed  by  the 
question  ;  but  he  replied,  "  We  are  going  out  once  more,  Herr 
Baron." 

"  It  is  a  holiday  evening."  And  Otto  took  out  his  large 
silver  watch,  the  terror  of  every  one  employed  upon  the  estate, 
for  it  was  as  punctual  to  the  minute  as  its  master. 

"  True,  Herr  Baron,"  the  steward  replied,  swallowing  his 
vexation,  "  but  old  Schafer  thinks  we  shall  have  a  storm,  and 
he  is  weather-wise.  In  an  hour  we  can  get  in  all  the  grain  on 
the  lower  meadow,  and  then " 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  Otto  said,  with  a  shrug ;  "  my  cousin 
desires  that  the  holiday  evenings  should  be  rigidly  observed; 
and,  besides,  is  there  not  to  be  a  wedding  in  Buchdorf 
to-night  ?"  And  he  turned  towards  the  peasants,  who  were 
enjoying  the  steward's  discomfiture. 

A* 


10  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

The  men  took  off  their  caps.     "  Yes,  Ilerr  Baron." 

"  But,"  the  steward  ventured  to  remonstrate,  "  a  storm  would 
cause  so  much  loss " 

"  We  must  bear  it,"  Otto  interrupted  him.  "  Put  back  the 
wagon,  Herr  Warne.     My  cousin's  orders  must  be  obeyed." 

And,  without  waiting  to  see  the  result  of  his  words,  young 
Arning  re-entered  the  room,  and  sat  down  at  his  writing-table 
again. 

"  But,  Otto,  you  ought  not  to  have  done  that,"  said  Aunt 
Bcruhardine,  reprovingly.  "  If  old  Schafer  is  right,  and  we 
do  have  a  storm,  it  will  cause  the  loss  of  at  least  several  hun- 
dred thalers." 

"  I  only  obeyed  Kurt's  order,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"  Kurt  never  would  have  objected  to  any  arrangement  of 
yours." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  it  is  not  my  place  to  make  arrangements 
here." 

"  Why  not,  if  they  are  good  ones  ?  Kurt's  strict  rules  are 
all  nonsense,  especially  when  he  is  not  here  to  see  them  put  in 
force.  The  people  could  just  as  well  have  left  off  work  an  hour 
earlier  to-morrow.  They  would  have  been  quite  as  well  pleased, 
and  the  wheat  would  not  have  been  spoiled.  No,  Otto,"  she 
continued,  as  her  nephew  showed  no  intention  of  replying, 
"  much  as  you  love  Kurt,  you  must  admit  that  you  never 
would  have  given  such  an  order." 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  certainly  should  act  differently  from  Kurt 
in  many  ways,"  Otto  now  quietly  replied. 

"  Why  do  you  not,  then  ?  If  Kurt  takes  no  pains  to  keep 
the  property  in  good  condition  for  you,  you  might  be  allowed 
to  do  it  for  yourself     You  have  some  claims  here." 

"  After  him, — yes.  But  at  present  Kurt  is  master  in  Buch- 
dorf ;  and  let  us  hope  he  may  long  continue  so." 

The  words  were  negligently  spoken,  and  sounded  neither  like 
a  devout  wish  nor  a  hypocritical  phrase,  but  like  the  usual  re- 


A    FA  MIL  F  FEUD.  11 

buff  to  a  frequent  suggestion.  Aunt  Bernhardine  evidently 
regarded  them  in  this  light,  for  she  fell  silent,  and  dropped  her 
eyes  upon  her  knitting  with  an  injured  air. 

Then  came  a  succession  of  messengers,  huntsmen,  and  labour- 
ers. The  young  baron  attended  to  all  their  demands  without 
interrupting  his  work. 

"  Otto,"  the  canoness  began  again,  as  the  door  closed  upon 
the  last  of  them. 

"Well?" 

"  You  have  given  holiday  to  every  one  else  ;  how  long  are 
you  going  to  work  over  those  accounts?" 

"  Until  I  have  finished  them." 

"  Indeed  you  have  been  writing  long  enough.  The  books 
cannot  be  in  very  good  order." 

"  Order  !     Last  year's  harvest  is  not  settled  up." 

"  Tliat  is  too  bad !  How  can  Wame  be  so  negligent  ?  And, 
stranger  still,  how  can  Kurt  put  up  with  such  neglect  ?" 

"  It  is  his  way,  you  know." 

"  An  admirable  way  it  is." 

"  Don't  let  it  vex  you,  aunt,"  the  young  baron  said,  laugh- 
ing. "  I  promise  that  the  herculean  labour  of  to-day  shall 
always  impress  me  with  Kurt's  terrible  example,  and  teach  me, 
if  ever  I  am  master  of  Buchdorf,  to  be  as  punctual  and  exact 
as  clock-work." 

"  1/  ever  you  are " 

Her  tone  was  so  strange  that  Otto  looked  up,  surprised. 

"  You  mean  that  I  may  die  first  ?"  he  asked. 

"  It  is  possible  that  you  may  outlive  Kurt  and  yet  never  be 
master  at  Buchdorf." 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  If  Kurt,  for  instance,  should  marry " 

Otto  dropped  his  pen  and  burst  into  a  merry  laugh,  in  which, 
however,  his  aunt  did  not  join. 

"  You  always  took  too  careless  a  view  of  the  matter,"  she 


12  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

continued.  "  His  father's  will  left  him  everything,  and  if  he 
should  marry  and  have  heirs  there  would  be  nothing  for  you 
but  Ermsdal,  the  only  strictly  entailed  estate,  with  its  ruinous 
old  dwelling-house  and  scarcely  two  acres  of  land  worth  any- 
thing  So  you  need  not  laugh  so  foolishly,  Otto,"  she  inter- 
rupted herself,  angrily.  "  I  should  think  the  case  sufficiently 
grave." 

"  I  beg  pardon,  aunt,  but  Kurt  and  matrimony — indeed  it 
is  too  comical !"     And  again  he  laughed  heartily. 

"  And  if  he  should  marry?" 

"  But  he  won't." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that?  I  had  to  take  a  deal  of 
trouble  to  get  him  out  of  the  way  of  Theresa  Flieder,  Madame 
von  Reise's  companion.  He  all  but  declared  himself  her 
suitor." 

Otto's  laughter  ceased,  and  he  sat  thoughtfully  playing  with 
his  pen. 

After  a  short  reverie  he  began  to  write  again,  but  another 
interruption  was  at  hand.  A  servant  brought  in  the  evening 
mail.  One  of  the  letters  was  addressed  to  the  Freiia  von 
Tretten. 

"  From  Kurt,"  Otto  said,  as  he  handed  it  to  the  old  lady. 
"  What  can  he  have  to  tell  you  before  he  comes  home  to- 
morrow ?" 

Aunt  Bernhardine  hastily  tore  open  the  envelope.  Her 
forebodings  were  soon  to  be  fulfilled. 

"  Shameful,  faithless,  detestable !"  she  exclaimed,  after 
reading  the  first  lines. 

Otto  turned  round.  He  had  never  seen  Aunt  Bernhardine 
like  this  before.  Her  sallow  complexion  turned  livid,  her 
black  eyes  glittered,  and  her  hand  trembled. 

"  Good  heavens !"  he  cried,  rising,  and  hastening  to  her 
side ;  "  what  has  happened  to  him  ?" 

"Read  that!"  the  canoness  replied,  thrusting  the  letter 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  13 

into  liis  hands.     There  were  two  sheets  within  the  envelope, 
one  addressed  to  Bernhardine  and  one  to  Otto. 

The  baron  wrote  to  Fraulein  von  Tretten  that  twenty-four 
hours  previously  he  had  been  married  to  Fraulein  Theresa 
Flieder.  He  begged  Aunt  Bernhardine  to  prepare  Otto  for 
this  intelligence,  which  would  precede  by  only  a  few  hours  the 
arrival  of  his  bride  and  himself  He  desired  that  the  servants 
might  be  apprised  of  their  coming,  and  everything  be  as  well 
prepared  for  their  reception  as  the  shortness  of  the  time  would 
permit,  and  concluded  by  expressing  the  hope  that  Aunt  Bern, 
hardine  would  extend  to  his  wife  the  good  will  she  had  always 
manifested  towards  himself,  and  that  she  would  continue,  as 
heretofore,  to  consider  his  house  her  home. 

The  letter  to  Otto  was  by  no  means  so  naturally  written. 
Kurt  could  not  feel  quite  free  fi'om  blame  towards  him ;  but 
in-stead  of  confessing  this,  and  defending  his  course  of  conduct 
in  a  frank,  manly  way,  he  committed  the  error,  so  common 
with  weak  natures,  of  attempting  to  hide  his  disquiet  behind 
the  affectation  of  perfect  ease  and  confidence  in  himself.  He 
wrote  as  if  nothing  but  pleasure  could  result  for  his  young 
cousin  from  this  marriage ;  spoke  of  the  charming  mistress 
who  would  bring  new  life  into  the  old  mansion,  and  of  how 
much  more  comfortable  and  happy  Otto  would  be  there  than 
ever  before, — the  worst  course  he  could  possibly  have  pursued 
with  a  youth  of  Otto's  peculiar  character. 

Young  Arning  read  the  letter  from  end  to  end,  slowly  and 
in  perfect  silence.  His  face  changed,  his  hand  leaned  more 
and  more  heavily  upon  the  table  beside  which  he  stood. 
When  he  had  finished,  he  deliberately  refolded  the  sheet  and 
laid  it  aside.  Very  pale  he  looked,  but  he  still  said  not  one 
word. 

Aunt  Bernhardine  never  turned  her  eyes  from  him.  Their 
previous  conversation  had  not  led  her  to  suppose  that  this 
news  would  affect  him  so  deeply. 

2 


14  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

"Otto!"  she  cried,  troubled  at  his  strange  silence;  "dear 
Otto,  do  speak  and  tell  me  what  you  are  thinking  of  this  in- 
telligence." 

Otto's  compressed  lips  were  at  last  unclosed.  "  My  cousin 
does  not  waste  many  words  in  telling  me  that  I  am  a 
beggar,"  he  replied,  almost  in  a  whisper,  but  with  intense 
bitterness. 

His  tone  went  to  Aunt  Bemhardine's  heart.  "  A  beggar? 
No,  Otto  ;  there  must  be  some  means  to  compel  Kurt  von 
Arning  to  provide  for  the  man  who  must  succeed  at  Erms- 
dal,  the  oldest,  if  the  poorest,  of  the  estates  now  in  his  pos- 
session. No  child  of  a  bourgeoise  marriage  like  this  can 
deprive  you  of  that,  my  poor  boy.  The  court  must  be  ap- 
plied to,  legal  advice " 

Otto  interrupted  her.  "  The  court  ?"  he  repeated,  haughtily. 
"What  are  you  talking  about,  Aunt  Bernhardine?  Our 
ancient  and  spotless  name  bandied  about  in  men's  mouths? 
every  newspaper  telling  of  our  quarrel — all  for  the  sake  of 
lands  and  gold  ?     No,  I  never  will  consent  to  it  1" 

"  Then  I  shall  do  what  I  can,"  the  canoness  rejoined,  no- 
wise daunted. 

"  You  will  do  nothing,  Aunt  Bernhardine,"  Otto  cried, 
passionately,  the  fine  glow  of  indignation  upon  his  face  making 
him  look  positively  handsome.  "  You  will  do  nothing,  for  it 
would  be  useless.  If  you  could  possibly  drag  me  into  a  law- 
suit with  Kurt,  I  should  put  a  bullet  through  my  brains  before 
it  was  decided " 

He  stopped  short.  The  canoness  could  not  speak  further 
with  him  upon  the  subject  while  he  was  thus  agitated. 

"  Dear  aunt,"  he  began,  after  a  while,  with  an  entire  change 
of  voice  and  manner,  "  will  you  not  be  kind  enough  to  ar- 
range for  the  reception  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom  ?  When 
Kurt  comes,  excuse  my  absence  as  best  you  may.  I  must  bo 
more  composed  than  I  am  at  present  when  we  meet." 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  15 

And,  thrusting  Kurt's  letter  into  his  pocket,  he  put  on  his 
cap,  threw  his  fowling-piece  over  his  shoulder,  and  hurried  out 
to  plunge  into  the  depths  of  the  park. 


CHAPTER    11. 


Meantime  a  travelling-carriage  was  driving  slowly  through 
the  Arning  estates  towards  Buchdorf.  Within  it  sat  the  lord 
of  the  land,  and  beside  him  his  young  wife,  a  woman  with  the 
bearing  of  a  queen,  and  sparkling  brown  eyes  lighting  up 
finely-formed  features. 

Neither  husband  nor  wife  spoke.  She  sat  complacently 
looking  abroad  over  the  acres  of  which  she  was  now  mistress, 
and  perhaps  thinking  of  the  time  when,  as  a  humble  com- 
panion, she  had  first  travelled  this  very  road.  Kurt  was  by 
no  means  as  cheerful  as  it  beseems  a  husband  of  only  four- 
and-twenty  hours  to  be  :  hLs  heart  beat  with  an  agitation  that 
increased  as  he  approached  his  home.  He  knew  that,  carried 
away  by  passion,  he  had  blasted  hopes  which  he  himself  had 
created  and  fostered,  and  he  was  ashamed,  not  of  his  mar- 
riage, but  of  the  haste  and  secrecy  with  which  it  had  been 
concluded. 

But  another  voice  within  him  boldly  defied  these  prickings 
of  conscience.  What  actual  claim  had  Otto  upon  him  ?  Was 
he  not  his  own  master  ?  Was  he  not  the  lawful  master  here? 
If  his  first  marriage  had  not  been  childless.  Otto  would  nevoi 
have  dreamed  of  inheriting  his  property. 

Thus  the  newly-married  pair  arrived  at  Buchdorf.  The 
spacious  court-yard  looked  deserted ;  the  house  seemed  empty. 
There  was  no  sign  of  festivity ;  no  token  of  the  merest  wel- 
come.    A  maid-servant  in  her  workinir-clothes  came  from  the 


16  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

dairy.  She  curtsied  negligently,  and  was  passing  on,  when 
Baron  von  Arning  called,  sternly,  "  What,  Stina,  have  you  no 
word  of  welcome  to  your  new  mistress  ?" 

The  girl  clasped  her  hands  and  gazed  at  the  stranger — "  as 
stupidly  as  possible,"  Theresa  angrily  thought.  But  Stina  was 
by  no  means  stupid ;  she  instantly  conjectured  why  it  was  that 
Friiulein  Bernhardine  had  suddenly  taken  her  departure  half 
an  hour  previously.  Still,  it  was  strange,  and  she  could  only 
repeat,  in  her  South  German  patois,  "  The  new  mistress !" 

"  Yes,  yes  !"  Kurt  cried,  impatiently.  "  Did  not  Fraulein 
von  Tretten  tell  you  that  I  was  to  arrive  with  Madame  von 
Arning  this  evening?" 

"  No,  Herr  Baron,  the  Fraulein  went  away  half  an  hour 
ago  ;  but  she  left  a  letter  for  the  Herr  Baron." 

Kurt  bit  his  lip. 

"Where  is  Baron  Otto?" 

"  I  saw  the  young  baron  going  out  into  the  park  a  few 
hours  since." 

"  Well,  then,  at  least  call  Herr  Warne." 

"  He  went  to  the  village  at  seven." 

The  baron  stamped  his  foot. 

"  At  any  rate,  I  shall  see  them  at  supper.  Is  it  nearly 
ready  ?" 

"  The  Herr  Baron  must  excuse  us,  but,  since  the  Fraulein 
was  gone  and  the  young  baron  and  the  steward  were  not  at 
home,  the  cook,  Marianne,  went  down  to  the  wedding  in  the 
village." 

"  And  we  are  not  even  to  have  any  supper !"  Kurt  cried, 
now  fairly  angry. 

"  I  will  send  for  Marianne  immediately,  Herr  Baron." 

•'  Do  so." 

Kurt  offered  his  arm  to  his  young  wife  and  conducted  her 
into  the  house.  "  Forgive  this  reception,  Theresa,"  he  said, 
gloomily.     "  There  must  have  been  some  misunderstanding'." 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  17 

"  Some  misunderstanding  indeed,"  she  replied,  proudly  in- 
dignant. 

In  the  sitting-room  the  baron  found  Aunt  Bernhardine's 
letter,  which  left  him  in  no  doubt  as  to  her  opinion  of  his 
conduct.  After  telling  him  plainly  what  she  thought  of  him, 
she  concluded  by  declaring  that  never  again  would  she  set  foot 
in  Buchdorf. 

Kurt  tore  the  letter  in  bits.  He  did  not  venture  to  show  it 
to  his  wife. 

The  cook  returned,  and  the  hungry  couple  were  at  last  re- 
galed with  an  excellent  supper.  Nevertheless,  the  evening 
passed  drearily  enough.  Kurt  was  anxious  about  Otto,  who 
did  not  return.  Had  he,  too,  left  the  house  that  had  for  so 
many  years  been  his  home?  To  Theresa  these  first  hours 
seemed  to  forebode  ill  for  the  future. 

At  last,  after  ten  o'clock.  Otto's  step  was  heard  in  the  hall. 
The  baron  started ;  the  decisive  moment  had  arrived. 

If  Kurt  had  expected  that  Otto  would  heap  him  with  re- 
proaches or  treat  him  with  withering  scorn,  he  was  greatly  mis- 
taken. In  Otto's  pale  face  there  was  visible  no  trace  of  anger 
or  scorn.    He  did  not  even  look  gloomy,  only  extremely  grave. 

He  greeted  the  pair  courteously,  and  turned  to  offer  his 
congratulations  to  the  bride,  whom  he  had '  never  seen  before, 
although  she  had  spent  some  months  upon  a  neighbouring 
estate. 

Theresa's  glance  rested  upon  her  young  cousin  with  keen 
scrutiny.  His  self-reliant  bearing,  his  settled  demeanour,  so 
little  in  harmony  with  his  almost  boyish  appearance,  the  as- 
sumed repose  of  his  manner  towards  her,  had  anything  but  a 
soothing  effect  upon  the  irritation  she  already  felt.  She  in- 
terrupted his  congratulatory  speech  by  observing  that  she 
could  hardly  believe  in  his  sincerity,  since  he  had  not  thought 
it  worth  while  to  be  present  when  she  arrived.  She  cared 
little,  she  added,  for  mere  words  of  course. 

2* 


18  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

She  had  thought  to  impress  her  young  relative,  perhaps 
confuse  hiui,  by  her  manner  ;  but  in  this  she  made  the  mistake 
of  judginr;  Otto  von  Arning  by  his  years  and  not  by  his 
intellect. 

The  young  baron  did  not  even  change  countenance.  "  I 
thank  you,  madame,  for  relieving  me  from  the  duty  of  uttering 
mere  words,"  he  said,  with  a  low  bow.  "  Pray  consider  my 
congratulations  unspoken." 

"  Otto!"  Kurt  cried,  in  dismay. 

Theresa  drew  herself  up  haughtily.  "  Baron  Kurt's  indul- 
gence makes  you  over-bold,  my  young  cousin." 

Kurt  felt  that  it  was  his  imperative  duty  to  speak  now,  if 
he  would  not  appear  contemptible  in  the  eyes  of  his  bride. 

"  Yes,  Otto,"  he  said,  with  unwonted  severity,  "  you  have 
disappointed  and  displeased  me  exceedingly  to-day.  We  arrive 
here  to  find  nothing  in  readiness  for  our  reception,  not  even 
the  simplest  supper.  Aunt  Bernhardine  has  left,  and  you  are 
out  hunting.  Even  the  servants  had  had  no  instructions  from 
you.  Surely  I  had  a  right  to  expect  some  service  at  your 
hands." 

"  At  mine  ?"  Otto  exclaimed,  with  peculiar  emphasis,  adding 
with  quiet  scorn  in  his  voice,  "  You  really  should  have  applied 
to  Herr  Warne  if  you  desired  to  celebrate  your  marriage  witli 
a  triumphal  arch  and  the  school- children  dressed  in  white." 

As  we  know,  he  had  begged  Aunt  Bernhardine  to  prepare 
for  his  cousin's  reception,  and  had  relied  upon  her  doing  so ; 
but,  irritated  and  sore  as  he  was,  he  would  rather  have  bitten 
out  his  tongue  than  condescend  to  say  one  word  in  self-justifi- 
cation. 

"  I  think,  Kurt,  we  had  better  withdraw,"  Theresa  said, 
haughtily,  "  and  leave  this  unmannerly  boy  to  his  tutor  until 
he  has  learned  how  to  conduct  himself" 

The  lightning  that  flashed  in  Otto's  eyes  warned  the  baron 
that  it  was  time  to  pour  oil  op  the  waters. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  19 

"  After  all,"  he  cried,  with  forced  cheerfulness,  "  what  is 
there  to  make  a  scene  about  ?  There  is  no  reason  for  any 
misunderstanding  between  you  two.  You  and  Aunt  Bernhar- 
dine  are  all  wrong  in  taking  matters  so  tragically.  Good 
heavens !  I  bring  a  young  and  lovely  wife  to  this  old  home, 
and  instead  of  rejoicing  to  welcome  her,  you  flee  from  us  as 
if  we  were  wehr-wolves.     It  really  is  too  ridiculous !" 

This  awkward  attempt  to  smooth  matters  was  the  last  straw 
to  break  down  Otto's  hardly-won  self-restraint.  Scarcely  him- 
self, he  replied,  in  a  voice  which  he  vainly  strove  to  steady, 
"No  more  of  this  farce,  Kurt;  I  am  no  longer  such  a  child 
as  not  to  understand  what  you  have  done.  You  might  at  least 
spare  me  your  sneers  at  the  annihilation  of  my  future." 

"  But,  Otto,  what  an  idea  1  be  sure  that " 

"  Why  do  you  condescend  to  arg-ue  with  such  folly?"  The- 
resa sharply  interrupted  him. 

Kurt  made  one  more  effort  not  to  appear  weak  in  the  eyes 
of  the  wife  whom  he  fondly  loved. 

"  It  would  really  seem.  Otto,  that  my  indulgence  has  been  at 
fault,  since  it  has  taught  you  thus  to  forget  your  position 
towards  me.  Let  me,  once  for  all,  deprecate  all  interference 
or  criticism  on  your  part." 

"  Whether  your  own  oft-repeated  words  give  me  a  right 
to  '  criticism'  of  your  marriage,  I  will  not  now  discuss.  It 
would  be  of  no  use,  for  I  waive  the  right  if  there  be  any  such. 
But  surely  I  had  a  right  to  be  informed  of  a  step  so  deeply 
affecting  my  future  at  some  more  fitting  time  than  just  three 
hours  ago,  and  after  some  more  fitting  fashion  than  by  this — 
sci'awl."  And  he  threw  the  baron's  letter  on  the  table,  and 
went  towards  the  door, 

"  Madame  will  certainly  excuse  my  frankness,"  he  said, 
coldly,  turning  once  more  before. he  reached  it,  "since  I  but 
comply  with  her  express  desire  in  avoiding  mere  words  of 
course." 


20  A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

"  Otto !"  his  cousin  called  after  him,  "  Otto,  I  pray  you, 
one  word  more."     But  the  young  Freiherr  had  vanished. 

And  thus  one  short  quarter  of  an  hour  had  made  foes  for  a 
lifetime  of  two  people,  each  possessed  of  qualities  and  charac- 
teristics that  might  under  happier  circumstances  have  made 
them  firm  friends. 


CHAPTER    III. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  baroness  began  a 
round  of  inspection  as  mistress  of  the  mansion.  She  asked  a 
maid  whom  she  met,  where  the  breakfast-table  was  laid. 

"  On  the  balcony,  to-day,  madame,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  why,  when  the  weather  is  so  threatening?" 

"  Oh,  the  Herr  Baron  always  breakfasts  where  the  young 
master  has  breakfasted." 

"  Indeed  ?"  and  Theresa  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony, 
"  Two  people  have  already  breakfasted  here." 

"  Yes,  madame,  the  tutor  has  just  gone." 

"  Did  he  breakfast  with  Baron  Otto  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  madame.  The  young  master  breakfasts  at  five 
o'clock." 

"  And  where  is  the  young  master  now  ?" 

"  Out  hunting,  madame." 

"And  the  tutor?" 

''  Gone  fishing,  madame." 

Here  was  an  edifying  state  of  affairs  I  The  master  of  the 
house  rose  at  nine,  the  tutor  was  gone  a-fishing,  his  charge 
was  ranging  the  forest  in  search  of  sport,  and  the  kettle  was 
kept  boiling  above  the  spirit-lamp  from  five  o'clock  imtil  nine 
that  three  different  people  might  have  their  breakfast  at  three 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  21 

different  hours !  Theresa,  fond  as  she  might  be  of  ease  and 
leisure,  yet  had  a  true  woman's  love  of  order.  It  was  evi- 
dently her  part  to  evoke  it  from  this  chaos,  and  establish  her 
position  as  mistress  here.  She  had  a  yet  bolder  design, — 
nothing  less  than  to  make  her  young  cousin  more  gentle, 
docile,  and  obedient. 

Towards  noon  she  met  the  tutor  in  one  of  the  alleys  of  the 
park.  He  was  sauntering  along,  his  fishing-rod  over  his 
shoulder,  humming  a  tune.  The  baroness  joined  him,  and, 
after  informing  him  that  his  charge  had  done  but  little  credit 
to  his  training  on  the  previous  evening,  gently  but  firmly 
entreated  him,  if  he  would  justify  the  confidence  reposed  in 
him,  to  keep  a  stricter  watch  upon  his  pupil,  and  especially 
to  see  to  it  that  he  had  regular  hours  for  study. 

Brinkmann  listened  gravely  and  apparently  with  great 
respect  to  all  she  had  to  say,  but  she  little  knew  how  the 
clever  tutor  was  studying  her  while  he  thus  listened.  As  she 
turned  away  he  looked  after  her  with  a  half-contemptuous 
smile  of  pity,  and  muttered  to  himself,  "  Success  to  your  hopes, 
my  fair  and  haughty  dame !  A  year  will  bring  you  some 
strange  experience.  If  you  were  wise  now,  you  would  sooner 
thrust  both  those  little  hands  into  a  hornet's  nest  than  measure 
yourself  against  young  Otto  von  Arning." 

But,  unfortunately,  Frau  von  Arning  was  not  wise  enough  ; 
she  was  elated  by  her  new  dignity,  and  with  the  best  inten- 
tions in  the  world,  but  without  any  due  consideration  of  char- 
acter and  circumstances,  she  recklessly  plunged  into  a  strife 
which  was  to  embitter  the  best  years  of  her  life. 

Her  husband,  the  steward,  and  the  servants  willingly  obeyed 
the  rein  which  the  fair  mistress  had  so  resolutely  taken  into 
her  hands.  With  Otto  alone  did  she  encounter  opposition, 
and  naturally  all  her  energy  was  concentrated  to  overcome 
this  on  the  part  of  "  the  boy,"  as  she  called  him  in  most  mis- 
taken scorn.     She  had  desired  that  her  young  cousin  should 


22  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

have  regular  hours  for  study, — tlie  consequence  was  that  he 
hardly  studied  at  all ;  she  declared  it  the  duty  of  so  young  a 
man  to  be  at  home  at  supper-time, — Otto  sometimes  did  not 
return  home  until  towards  morning. 

This  defiance  of  her  authority  irritated  the  baroness  ex- 
cessively, and  she  was  still  more  vexed  to  find  that  neither 
Kurt  nor  Herr  Brinkmann  would  undertake  to  call  the  young 
*'  master"  to  account  for  his  conduct. 

"Otto  has  always  had  his  own  way,  my  dear  child,"  was 
Kurt'ri  constant  reply  to  her  complaints.  "  I  am  afraid  it  is 
too  late  to  attempt  a  change." 

At  last  the  baroness  could  no  longer  restrain  her  impatience. 
She  determined  to  set  her  lord  a  good  example.  "  Some  one 
must  take  pains  with  the  boy's  neglected  education,"  she  said 
to  herself,  by  way  of  excuse  for  what  she  did ;  and  one  day, 
when  Kurt  returned  from  his  morning  stroll  about  the  estate, 
Theresa  met  him  with  the  edifying  news  that  she  herself  had 
taken  Otto  to  task,  "  since  the  tutor  seemed  afraid  to  remind 
him  of  his  duty."  She  had  not  "  minced  matters,"  but  had 
given  the  young  fellow  clearly  to  understand  what  were  her 
ideas  of  his  duty  and  his  present  conduct.  All  that  now  re- 
mained was  that  her  authority  should  be  firmly  maintained. 
Otto  had  not  contradicted  her;  he  had  quietly  listened  to  all 
she  had  to  say,  and  had  promised  that  he  would  reflect  upon 
it.  True,  his  manner  had  been  rather  independent,  but  she 
hoped  that  time  would  reform  that  also. 

Kurt  did  not  share  her  hopes;  he  feared  troubk  in  the 
future.  The  baroness,  too,  was  not  exactly  comfortable  when 
first  the  late  breakfast  and  then  the  dinner-hour  passed  with- 
out Otto.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance. Kurt  sprang  up  to  greet  him,  asking  where  he  had 
been  and  what  he  had  been  doing.  In  the  baron's  manner 
there  was  a  mute  entreaty  for  forgiveness,  and  perhaps  out  of 
eympathy  Otto  responded  more  cordially  than  Le  had  done 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  23 

since  his  cousin's  marriage.  The  baroness,  however,  regarded 
her  husband  with  some  scorn,  fearing  lest  his  easy,  compliant 
nature  should  make  of  no  effect  all  her  educational  efforts. 

"  May  I  speak  with  you  for  a  few  moments  in  your  own 
room?"  the  youug  baron  gravely  asked  after  a  while. 

"  Have  you  such  mighty  secrets  to  discuss  that  they  cannot 
be  mentioned  in  the  garden  ?"  Theresa  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Matters  between  guardian  and  ward,  madame,"  Otto  biiefly 
replied ;  and  the  two  cousins  walked  towards  the  house. 

"  I  know  what  you  want  to  speak  with  me  about,  my  dear 
fellow,"  Kurt  began,  as  soon  as  they  were  seated  in  the  lat- 
ter's  so-called  study.  "  Theresa  had  a  talk  with  you  this 
morning.  Make  your  mind  quite  easy  ;  it  shall  not  occur 
again." 

"  i^ou  are  mistaken,"  Otto  replied ;  "  I  would  not  have 
troubled  you  about  such  a  trifle.  The  Frau  Baroness's  ad- 
monition is  only  the  first  link  of  a  chain  to  be  wound  about 
me  which  I  have  no  mind  to  endure.  Your  wife  has  under- 
taken a  fruitless  task, — as  irksome  to  her  as  to  me.  And  that 
we  all  three  may  be  spared  any  repetition  of  such  unedifying 
attempts  to  control  me,  I  think,  Kurt,  it  is  best  I  should  leave 
Buchdorf." 

The  baron  gazed  sorrowfully  at  the  young  cousin  whose 
power  of  insight  and  strength  of  character  so  greatly  exceeded 
his  own. 

"  Otto !  Otto !"  he  cried,  with  emotion,  and  almost  with 
tears.  "  Good  God !  if  I  had  known  that  my  marriage  would 
make  us  enemies  1  Now  you  will  go  to  Aunt  Bernhardine, 
and " 

"  Hear  me  out,"  Otto  gently  entreated,  laying  his  hand  upon 
his  cousin's  arm.  "  Indeed  I  did  not  mean  to  reproach  you  in 
any  way.  What  I  have  to  say  is  to  the  guardian,  not  to  the 
relative.  You  know  that  you  yourself  taught  me  to  consider 
myself  your  heir.    Your  marriage  has  disinherited  me."    Kurt 


24  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

bowed  his  head  like  a  criminal  before  his  judge,  while  Otto 
quietly  proceeded.  "  And  you  know,  too,  that  I  could  not  live 
upon  the  bounty  of  your  heirs,  a  useless  incumbrance  upon  the 
estate " 

*'  But  you  cannot  tell  what  the  future  may  bring  forth," 
Kurt  interrupted  him.  "  Wait,  and  let  matters  arrange  them- 
selves." 

"  I  have  not  the  patience  to  await  uncertain  results.  I  must 
be  independent,  if  I  would  live." 

"  And  you  would  like  a  portion  of  the  estates  assigned  to 
you  ?"  asked  Kurt,  thinking  he  understood  it  all  now,  and 
greatly  relieved.  "  Be  frank,  my  boy  ;  you  are  morally  en- 
titled to  it,  and  I  will  gladly  make  some  arrangement " 

Otto  recoiled.  "  No ;  I  do  not  desire  to  deprive  your  pos- 
sible heirs  of  their  inheritance,"  he  said,  firmly.  "  I  wish 
to  achieve  independence  by  my  own  exertions.  Supply  me 
with  the  means  for  study,  and  I  will  embrace  some  calling 
that  shall  give  me  a  support  and  a  position  in  the  world  and 
enable  me  to  confront  your  heirs  without  envy.  Are  you 
agreed?" 

Kurt  was  more  than  agreed ;  he  was  not  only  delighted  with 
the  clear-sightedness  which  led  Otto  to  select  the  only  course 
sure  to  secure  future  harmony,  but  gratified  by  the  afi"ection 
dictating  the  desire  for  such  harmony. 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,  my  dear  fellow !"  he  exclaimed, 
cordially,  "  and  have,  I  confess,  relieved  me  immensely.  I  need 
not  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  to  part  with  you ;  but,  if  it  must 
be,  I  had  much  rather  lose  your  presence  for  a  time  than  your 
afiection.  Go,  then,  and  God  go  with  you !  I  make  one 
condition,  however:  that  you  still  regard  Buchdorf  as  your 

home,  and  do  not  spend  your  vacations  in  M with  Aunt 

Bernhardine.     Promise  me  this." 

Otto  promised,  and  it  was  forthwith  decided  in  amity  that 
young  Arning  should  go  immediately  to  the  gymnasium  in 


A    FA^fILY  FEUD.  25 

M .     Kurt,  who  was  grateful  from  his  soul  to  his  young 

relative  for  this  solution  of  all  difficulties,  took  upon  himself 
the  providing  of  a  suitable  position  for  Herr  Brinkmann. 

When  the  cousins  returned  to  the  baroness,  Otto's  fowling- 
piece  was  again  thrown  aci'oss  his  shoulder,  and  he  walked 
away,  simply  saying  to  Theresa  that  he  should  not  return  to 
supper  that  night. 

The  baroness  comprehended  that  her  well-conceived  edu- 
cational designs  had  been  frustrated  by  the  headstrong  youth. 
And  when  Kurt  informed  her  of  the  new  project  she  could 
scarcely  understand,  much  less  share,  his  unaffected  delight. 
She  could  not  instantly  approve  a  solution  so  directly  opposed 
to  her  own  views ;  she  was  too  much  of  a  woman  to  forget 
present  defeat  in  the  hope  of  future  peace  and  harmony,  and 
she  regarded  as  cunning  Otto's  reserve  towards  her. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Eight  days  after  this.  Otto  repaired  to  the  gymnasium  at 

M ,  where,  thanks  to  the  attainments  which  the  baroness 

had  unjustly  undervalued,  he  soon  took  high  rank. 

It  was  a  gay  life  upon  which  he  now  entered.  His  cousin's 
lettera  of  introduction,  his  ancient  name,  soon  introduced  him 
to  high  official  circles,  where  his  wonderfully  precocious  intel- 
lect, his  fine  abilities,  from  which  a  brilliant  future  was  prophe- 
sied for  him,  and  a  quickly-developed  social  talent,  made  him 
a  welcome  and  honoured  guest.  He  selected  for  his  associates 
men  much  older  than  himself,  and  attained  an  excellent  posi- 
tion among  them. 

People  wondered  at  his  bold,  clear  expression  of  opinion, 
and  laughed  at  the  dry  irony  with  which  he  was  wont  to 
B  3 


26  •       A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

treat  any  unpleasant  topic,  especially  his  relations  with  his 
cousins. 

In  the  second  year  after  his  marriage  a  fine  healtliy  little 
girl  was  born  to  the  lord  of  Buchdorf,  and  named  Beatrice. 

Naturally,  the  matter  was  much  talked  of  in  M ,  where 

the  Arnings  were  widely  known.  Otto's  only  remark  upon 
ill!  occasion  when  allusion  was  made  to  the  expensive  festivity 
celebrated  in  honour  of  the  child's  baptism  was,  "  In  fact,  it  is 
I  who  have  paid  for  it  all  with  three  estates." 

Another  time,  when  a  companion  laughingly  inquired  why 
the  Frau  Baroness  had  not  asked  him  to  be  godfather  to  her 
child,  he  replied,  "  Why,  because  I  should  not  have  called  it 
Beatrice,  but  Dolores." 

Both  these  remarks  were  reported  at  Buchdorf,  and  did  not, 
of  course,  help  to  improve  relations  between  Theresa  and  her 
young  cousin. 

More  than  two  years  had  passed  since  the  evening  when 
Kurt  and  his  bride  had  found  so  disagreeable  a  reception  awaits 
ing  them  at  Buchdorf,  and  various  changes  had  taken  place 
in  the  Arning  family. 

The  estate,  under  Herr  Warne's  stewardship,  was  managed 
after  the  old  negligent  fashion.  But  within  the  house  reigned 
the  quiet  and  harmony  in  which  the  baron's  soul  delighted. 
His  days  glided  happily  by  in  the  possession  of  an  adored  wife 
and  of  a  charming  little  daughter.  Theresa's  very  life  was 
bound  up  in  the  child.  She  took  no  interest  whatever  in  Otto's 
affairs,  and  when  he  came  to  Buchdorf, — which  he  did  two  or 
three  times  a  year, — each,  by  mutual  consent,  rather  avoided 
the  other,  so  that  there  was  no  opportunity  for  further  discord. 
And  yet  the  gulf  between  them  was  not  bridged  over,  and 
there  were  not  wanting  those  who  would  gladly  have  widened  it. 

Afler  a  brilliant  examination.  Otto  was  entered  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  B as  a  student  of  law.     Here  he  at  times  attended 

a  variety  of  lectures,  at  times  none  at  all.     With  some  of  the 


A   FA  MIL  y  FEUD.  27 

professors  he  ranked  very  higli,  witli  others  but  indifferently ; 
by  his  fellow-students  he  was  idolized. 

One  would  hardly  have  recognized  the  pale,  reserved,  almost 
gloomy  boy  in  the  gay  student  standing  on  the  threshold  of 
the  old  mansion-house  at  Buchdorf  with  an  embroidered  cap 
stuck  on  one  side  of  his  dark  curls,  high  boots,  riding-whip  in 
hand,  and  a  pet  spaniel  at  his  heels.  There  could  not  be  found 
a  bolder  rider,  a  better  shot,  or  one  more  ready  at  a  fray  than 
Otto  von  Arning.  Theresa  could  discover  in  him  no  trace  of 
the  cool  reflection  and  staid  repose  of  former  days,  and,  with 
a  shrug,  she  concluded  that  they  had  never  really  existed. 

To  Kurt,  amazed  at  the  change  in  his  cousin,  she  declared 
that  Otto  had  been  misled  by  evil  companions,  and  that  reproof 
only  excited  him  to  all  kinds  of  mad  follies.  She  had  always 
known  the  boy  to  be  weak  and  conceited,  and  had,  therefore,  dis- 
approved of  liberating  him  so  soon  from  all  control.  She  was 
mistaken  ;  now,  as  formerly.  Otto's  course  of  life  was  in  accord- 
ance with  a  well-considered  plan  of  existence.  Of  old,  when 
he  regarded  himself  as  the  certain  heir  to  large  estates,  he 
had  endeavoured  to  form  himself  to  his  ideal  of  a  landed  pro- 
prietor ;  now,  when  he  belonged  to  himself  alone,  he  meant  to 
take  advantage  of  his  freedom,  and,  as  he  once  phrased  it  to 
a  jovial  companion,  "  be  a  merry  devil,  since  he  was  a  poor 
one." 

Theresa,  who  had  never  before  seen  anything  of  students, 
and  held  in  horror  the  life  at  the  university,  regarded  her 
cousin  as  utterly  lost,  and  did  not  conceal  her  opinion  from  her 
husband,  who  ventured  to  hint  as  much  one  day  to  Otto. 
Naturally  enough,  the  gay  student  scarcely  understood  Kurt's 
embarrassed  allusions.  Mad  pranks  and  duels  increased,  and  at 
last  Baron  Otto  von  Arning  was — suspended. 

He  bore  his  fate  with  great  equanimity.  To  Kurt's  re- 
monstrances he  replied  that  he  had  long  wished  to  exchange 
the  small  university  of  B for  one  of  more  consequence, 


28  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

and  lie  passed  the  time  before  the  beginning  of  a  fresh  term  at 
Buchdorf, 

Towards  Theresa  he  conducted  himself,  as  he  always  had 
done,  courteously  but  coldly.  A  peculiar  relation,  however, 
was  formed  between  him  and  Beatrice,  at  this  time  a  charm- 
ing, dark-eyed  little  creature,  the  very  ideal  of  a  child  three 
years  of  age.  It  was  no  secret  at  Buchdorf  that,  lovely  as  the 
child  was,  Otto  regarded  her  with  no  friendly  eye ;  he  was 
thought  to  have  almost  a  dislike  for  her.  No  one  had  ever 
seen  him  kiss  the  pretty  little  thing  whose  beauty  won  for 
her  the  caresses  of  every  stranger  visiting  her  parents. 

Strange  to  say,  this  dislike  was  not  mutual.  Whether  it  was 
that  Beatrice  possessed  no  spark  of  that  happy  instinct  which 
tells  a  child  so  surely  where  to  turn  for  affection,  or  whether 
Otto's  very  reserve  attracted  her,  certain  it  was  that  she  would 
stretch  out  her  arms  to  Cousin  Otto  even  from  her  mother's 
lap.  She  recognized  his  voice,  and  even  his  step,  at  a  distance, 
would  follow  him  everywhere  whenever  he  would  permit  it, 
and,  although  self-willed  enough  with  others,  obeyed  Cousin 
Otto's  slightest  word. 

And  yet,  although  he  never  caressed  the  child,  Otto  took  a 
great  deal  of  notice  of  her.  Kurt  rejoiced  to  see  this,  but 
Theresa  never  saw  her  child  in  her  enemy's  arms  without  a 
secret  tremor ;  and  the  little  one's  preference  for  him  seemed 
so  utterly  strange  and  inexplicable  that  in  darker  times  it 
would  surely  have  suggested  magic.  Through  her  maid,  also, 
she  heard  from  time  to  time  words  of  Otto's  to  the  child  fitted 
to  excite  anger,  and  even  fear.  As,  for  instance,  when  once 
he  had  swung  Beatrice  so  high  that  the  child  had  been  fright- 
ened, he  had  soothed  her  with, "  Don't  be  afraid,  you  lucky 
little  thing;  the  death  that's  waited  for  by  an  heir  never 
comes."  The  fact  that  Otto  had  tied  the  child  securely  in  her 
Bwing  was  suppressed  for  the  sake  of  producing  a  greater 
effect. 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  29 

Another  time  the  child  had  pointed  down  into  the  pond, 
Baying,  "  It  looks  so  pretty  down  there,  Cousin  Otto,  I  wish  I 
could  go  down." 

And  Otto  had  replied,  "  I  would  go  with  you,  child ;  it 
might  be  better  for  both  of  us." 

In  her  anxiety,  Theresa  tried  to  prevent  Beatrice  from 
being  left  alone  with  Otto,  but  in  vain.  Whenever  she  could 
the  little  girl  ran  to  him.  How  could  she  heed  prohibitions 
which  she  did  not  understand,  if  he  would  take  her  on  his 
horse  before  him,  or  catch  for  her  the  gay  butterfly  she  longed 
for,  or  patiently  let  her  jump  down  again  and  again  from  the 
edge  of  the  basin  of  the  fountain  ? 

He  never  thwarted  her,  and  seldom  refused  her  any  request, 
and  she  gladly  dispensed  with  his  caresses,  for,  like  most  chil- 
dren, she  disliked  to  be  interrupted  in  her  play  to  be  petted 
and  kissed. 

Otto  intended  to  go  to  Berlin  in  the  autumn,  and  mean- 
while he  continued  his  gay  student  career  in  Buchdorf  after 
so  jovial  a  fiishion  that  the  fathers  of  the  youths  who  had  been 
the  playmates  of  his  childhood  cautioned  their  sons  against 
intercourse  with  him.  He  laughed  at  the  dismay  excited  by 
his  mad  pranks  in  the  country,  since  his  dearest  friends  never 
swerved  in  their  affection  for  him.  But  of  course  his  folly — 
and  he  was  never  guilty  of  aught  save  folly — found  sterner 
judges  in  these  country  squires  than  in  the  society  of  a  town. 

The  universal  disapproval  at  last  had  its  effect  upon  Kurt. 
Doubtful  of  his  ward's  true  character,  he  gave  heed  to  Theresa's 
repeated  declarations  that  nothing  would  ever  come  of  Otto's 
studying.  Instead  of  spending  so  much  money  fruitlessly, 
why  could  not  Kurt  have  him  taught  the  management  of  an 
estate  under  his  own  or  Hcrr  Warne's  supervision,  and  in  time 
buy  him  a  farm  of  his  own,  which  could  not  easily  be  squan- 
dered ?  All  this  outlay  for  his  university  education  was  only 
thrown  away.     She  was  sincere  in  her  good  intentions,  and 

3* 


•30  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

Kurt  (lid  not  venture  to  gainsay  her,  although  he  shrank  from 
hinting  what  he  was  at  hist  resolved  upon.  He  shut  liimself 
up  in  his  study,  while  Theresa,  in  what  she  considered  a  most 
skilful  fashion,  relieved  him  of  a  hard  task  by  acquainting 
Otto  with  the  baron's  intentions  in  a  long  speech  in  which 
these  intentions  were  shown  in  the  light  of  a  well-merited 
punishment. 

He  listened,  one  hand  resting  upon  the  back  of  a  chair,  with 
an  air  of  cold  indifference  that  entirely  misled  the  baroness  as 
to  the  impression  produced  by  her  words.  Yet  when  she  had 
finished  he  had  grown  so  pale  that  even  Theresa  was  startled. 

"  Tell  my  cousin,"  he  answered,  steadily,  "  that  the  power 
lies  in  his  hands.  I  cannot  plead.  He  must  answer  for  this 
resolve  when  my  father  asks  at  his  hands  an  account  of  the 
son  committed  to  his  care,  and  upon  his  bead  be  the  evil  con- 
sequences sure  to  follow  upon  this  step.  For  you,  madame, 
and  your  share  in  this  affair,  I  tell  you  the  time  will  come 
when  you  would  give  years  of  your  life  to  be  able  to  blot  this 
hour  from  your  conscience.  I  think  there  is  nothing  further 
to  be  discussed  between  us." 

Otto  left  the  room.  At  the  dinner-table  he  appeared  in  a 
simple  dark  dress,  every  sign  of  the  gay  student  habiliments 
laid  aside.  Kurt,  who  sat  opposite  him,  did  not  venture  to 
look  at  him. 

From  this  time  another  change  was  manifest  in  the  young 
bai'on,  but  not  the  favourable  one  which  the  baroness  had  hoped 
would  follow  the  execution  of  her  plans.  Hitherto  the  life 
lie  had  led  had  been  gay  ;  now  it  was  reckless.  He  laughed 
his  cousin  to  scorn  when  he  counselled  him  to  pay  attention 
to  farming  and  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  estate. 
He  spent  days  and  nights  on  the  open  moorland,  frequent- 
ing miserable  inns  in  the  surrounding  villages.  The  only 
being  into  whose  heart  he  poured  out  the  full  measure  of  in- 
ditrnation  and  hatred  that  filled  his  own  was  Aunt  Bernhar- 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  31 

dine ;  to  her  alone  he  revealed  the  despair  that  possessed  him. 
With  those  acquaintances,  on  the  contrary,  with  whom  he  still 
kept  up  intercourse  he  was  as  entertaining  as  ever,  although 
his  wit  was  accompanied  by  a  nervous  irritability  shown  in 
occasional  outbursts  of  bitterness  and  self-contempt  which 
made  his  jests  painful  to  hear.  At  Buchdorf  he  was  a  morose, 
gloomy  misanthrope.  When  little  Beatrice  now  approached 
him,  he  harshly  lepulsed  her.  On  one  occasion,  when  the 
child  had  cried  and  begged  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  a 
blossom  hanging  just  above  Otto's  head,  to  reach  which  he 
had  but  to  extend  his  hand,  without  receiving  any  attention 
from  him,  Theresa's  maternal  indignation  found  vent  in  a  few 
sharp  words  of  remonstrance  and  reproof  Otto,  by  way  of 
reply,  coldly  asked  whether  his  next  occupation  was  to  be 
that  of  a  child's  nurse,  and  slowly  walked  away. 

The  blossoms  were  left  upon  the  bough,  and  the  baroness, 
who  had  first  not  loved,  and  had  then  hated  the  boy,  now  began 
to  fear  him. 

One  warm  day  in  spring,  Otto,  pale,  irritable,  and  in 
that  uncomfortable  condition  sure  to  be  the  result  of  a  night 
spent  in  revelry,  was  wandering  in  the  quiet  park,  just  because 
he  could  not  sleep  away  the  entire  day  as  he  would  gladly 
have  done.  From  a  distance,  little  Beatrice  came  flying  to- 
wards him,  her  embroidered  dress  fluttering,  her  brown  curls 
waving,  and  her  large  eyes  sparkling  brighter  than  the  dia- 
mond in  the  little  golden  cross  that  dangled  from  her  neck. 

"  Cousin  Otto,  Cousin  Otto  !"  she  cried,  breathless,  "  I  am 
so  glad  you  are  come  at  last.  I  have  been  so  often  to 
your  door ;  here  are  some  flowers  for  you, — May-bells  and 
daisies, — see  how  pretty  they  are  !" 

"  I  know  where  there  are  some  even  prettier,"  Otto  replied, 
more  kindly  than  usual,  for  he  could  never  quite  bring  him- 
self to  be  harsh  when  he  was  alone  with  the  child.  "  But  it 
is  very  far  from  here." 


32  A   FAMIIA'  FEUD. 

"  Whore — where  is  it,  Cousin  Otto  ?" 

"  Near  the  three  oaks,  close  by  the  park  gates ;  I  am  afraid 
you  cannot  find  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can  ;  this  is  the  way.  Stay  there,  and  I  will 
bring  you  a  bunch."  And  the  little  thing  shot  off  like  an 
arrow. 

With  an  impatient  gesture,  Otto  threw  aside  among  the 
bushes  the  flowers  he  had  taken  mechanically  from  her  hands, 
and  sauntered  on. 

He  had  no  suspicion  that  there  had  been  a  witness  to  this 
insignificant  little  scene  ;  but  so  it  was.  Concealed  among  the 
leafy  shrubbery,  the  steward  of  the  estate,  Heiurich  Warne, 
was  standing  motionless  on  the  velvet  grass.  He  was  a  young 
man,  only  a  few  years  older  than  the  young  baron  himself, 
much  more  developed,  and  handsomer,  although  not  so  dis- 
tinguished in  appearance. 

The  two  were  continually  compared,  and  almost  always  to 
Otto's  disadvantage.  The  steward's  fair  hair  waved  so  luxu- 
riantly about  his  fresh-coloured  face,  there  was  so  merry  a 
glance  in  his  blue  eyes,  and  such  a  good-humoured  smile  played 
about  his  full  lips,  that  all  were  attracted  by  him.  No  one 
had  ever  heard  a  quick  word  from  Herr  Warne.  He  had  an 
excuse  ready  for  all  shortcomings,  went  regularly  to  churcli 
every  Sunday,  and  possessed  a  rare  talent  for  clothing  in 
poetic  expressions  the  fine  sentiments  that  inspired  him. 

He  never  stamped  about ;  his  tread  was  so  soft  and  light, 
even  in  the  heaviest  boots,  that  his  approach  was  not  perceived 
until  his  presence  was  manifest.  Also,  he  was  always  most 
carefully  dressed,  almost  too  carefully  for  a  man  whose  duty  it 
was  to  assist  in  the  labour  of  the  peasants  under  his  control. 
In  short,  the  steward  was  a  young  man  after  Theresa's  own 
heart,  and  she  sincei'ely  regretted  that  Otto  did  not  resemble 
him. 

If  she  could  have  seen  him  at  this  moment,  the  sight  would 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  33 

certainly  have  surprised  her.  The  stereotyped  smile  had  van- 
ished from  his  features,  and  in  its  place  there  was  an  expres- 
sion of  malice  which  sat  ill  on  the  handsome  face.  Well 
touched  up,  the  little  scene  he  had  just  witnessed  would 
add  another  to  the  many  proofs  that  the  baroness  already  had 
of  Otto's  want  of  affection  for  her  child.  Well  touched  up, 
be  it  understood,  for  Frau  von  Arning  would  never,  in  spite 
of  her  dislike,  have  lent  her  ear  to  any  common  slander 
against  Otto. 

Meanwhile,  the  young  baron  walked  on  through  the  level 
waste  of  moorland.  The  desolation  about  him  accorded  well 
with  his  gloomy  reveries.  He  encountered  no  human  being, 
and  he  was  glad ;  for  the  world  and  mankind  were  alike  dis- 
tasteful to  him  this  morning.  He  cursed  the  fate  that  fettered 
him  to  a  place  where  he  had  no  real  friend,  and  a  surmise 
dawned  upon  his  mind  that  it  might  be  better  to  leave  Kurt 
and  the  baroness  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  money  from  which 
they  were  so  unwilling  to  be  parted,  to  forsake  his  native 
land,  and  begin  existence  afresh  in  some  distant  quarter  of  the 
globe.  He  pursued  this  thought  until  physical  exhaustion 
recalled  him  to  reality,  and  then  he  flung  himself  down  among 
the  heather.  "  Perhaps  I  can  find  rest  here,"  he  muttered, 
and  sought  forgetfulness  in  sleep. 

He  did,  in  fact,  slumber  pi'ofoundly  until,  after  the  lapse 
of  several  hours,  a  soft  step  near  awakened  him.  Sitting 
up,  he  saw  a  young  gipsy  woman  approaching.  She  had  the 
wild,  half-savage  beauty  so  characteristic  of  her  race  in  youth. 
Dishevelled  blue-black  hair  fell  from  beneath  the  gay  kerchief 
wrapped  about  her  head,  down  upon  her  shoulders,  which 
were  clad  in  a  shabby  velvet  jacket,  and  in  a  striped  shawl 
thrown  around  her  she  carried  a  sleeping  boy,  about  a  month 
old. 

Otto  sprang  up.  "  Good-day,  pretty  one !"  he  cried  to 
the  startled  new-comer.     "  Don't  be  afraid;  I  am  no  robber." 

B* 


34  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  I  was  only  startled,  Ilerr  Baron  Otto." 

"  Aha,  child, — so  you  know  me  !  A  good  reason  why  you 
should  tell  me  your  name.     What  is  it?" 

"  Maida,  Ilerr  Baron." 

"  A  pretty  name.  A  prophetess,  too,  I  dare  swear.  Maida, 
can  you  tell  me  my  fortune  ?" 

The  gipsy  nodded,  and  Otto  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  look- 
ing down  at  her  with  a  smile  of  admiration  for  her  beauty  and 
of  incredulity  as  to  her  gift  of  prophecy. 

She  studied  the  open  palm  for  a  few  moments,  then  raised 
her  eyes  from  the  lines  traced  there,  and  said,  gravely,  "  Re- 
joice, Herr  Baron.  After  great  sorrow  the  best  fortune  in 
the  world  will  be  yours." 

"  Poor  little  Maida.  The  best  fortune  in  the  world  is  a 
very  vague  promise,"  said  Otto.  "  What  do  you  think  it 
means,  child?  Money  and  laud,  or  a  tub  and  content. 
or " 

"  No, — a  true  and  lovely  wife." 

The  young  baron  laughed  aloud.  "  Diable !  you  promise 
more  than  Venus  herself,"  he  exclaimed.  "  But,  my  modf  rn 
Venus  of  the  moor,  what  shall  a  modern  Paris  offer  you  in 
reward?  I  hardly  think  you  would  be  content  only  to  be 
adjudged  the  prize  of  beauty,  which  I  solemnly  declare  is 
yours;  therefore  receive  the  more  practical  homage  of  our 
time  in  return  for  your  classic  utterance." 

As  he  spoke,  he  emptied  the  contents  of  his  purse  into  the 
hand  of  the  astonished  gipsy,  who,  of  course,  understood 
nothing  of  what  he  had  said,  but  who  readily  comprehended 
the  chink  of  silver  coin,  as  she  curtsied  gratefully  to  the 
young  baron  and  went  on  her  way. 

He  turned  towards  the  neighbouring  estate  of  Harsbye,  while 
Maida  walked  briskly  on  over  the  moor.  A  few  hours  after- 
wards, when  twilight  had  set  in,  the  cry  of  a  child  attracted 
her  attention.     She  turned  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  35 

proceeded,  and  found  on  the  ground  asleep  a  little  girl  about 
three  years  old,  who  had  in  her  sleep  uttered  the  cry  she  had 
heard.  Greatly  amazed,  Maida  bent  down  over  the  little  one. 
How  came  this  child,  who  judging  from  her  appearance  must 
belong  to  wealthy  parents,  here  on  this  lonely  and  desolate 
spot  with  the  night  so  close  at  hand? 

Whilst  Maida  was  puzzlin^  over  this  question,  the  little  girl 
opened  her  large  black  eyes  in  a  wondering  gaze,  and  then 
tried  to  stand  up,  which,  however,  she  could  not  do,  as  she  was 
tied  hand  and  foot  to  two  stout  bushes  growing  on  the  moor. 

In  vain  did  Maida  try  to  learn  from  her  who  she  was,  and 
the  name  of  her  parents.  The  child  only  cried  and  complained 
of  hunger.  The  good-natured  gipsy  could  not  leave  it  here 
helpless ;  she  gathered  it  up  in  her  arms,  and  hurried  on  with 
her  double  burden  to  the  camp  of  her  tribe. 

Meanwhile,  young  Arning  sauntered  on,  foreboding  no  evil, 
through  Harsbye  and  Grasort,  to  the  Buchdorf  mansion.  His 
astonishment  was  great  to  find  all  there  in  the  wildest  confu- 
sion. The  servants  were  rushing  hither  and  thither,  Kurt  was 
as  undecided  as  usual  as  to  what  was  to  be  done,  and  the 
baroness  was  pacing  the  great  hall  to  and  fro,  wringing 
her  hands  and  mourning  for  "  Beatrice,  dear,  sweet  little 
Beatrice." 

Otto  was  shocked  at  the  strange  scene  amidst  which  he 
found  himself.  It  was  some  time  before  he  learned,  in  answer 
to  his  repeated  questions,  that  his  little  cousin  had  disappeared. 

"  Well,  she  will  surely  be  found  immediately,"  he  said, 
quietly.  "  I'll  wager  she  is  hiding  somewhere  in  the  house. 
Beatrice  is  too  little  to  walk  far  away." 

''  Yes,  but  she  might  be  carried  far  away,"  Theresa  cried, 
beside  herself.  Otto,  now  that  he  had  come,  served  as  a  kind 
of  conductor  for  her  powerless  despair. 

Otto  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  which  showed  that 
he  did  nut  consider  her  responsible  at  present  tor  her  words. 


36  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

He  turned  to  his  cousin.  "  Since  when  has  the  child  been 
missed?" 

"About  two  hours  ago." 

"  And  you  have  searched  everywhere,  in  the  house  as  well 
as  in  the  park?" 

"  Everywhere,  everywhere !"  the  baron  replied,  with  a  sob. 
"  My  poor,  dear  little  girl !" 

"  Then  we  must  search  the  fields  and  the  moor  outside  the 
park,"  said  Otto.  "  Follow  me,  men.  We  will  go  first  to  the 
moor." 

"  Otto,  Otto,  bring  me  back  my  child !"  Kurt  cried,  ex- 
tending his  clasped  hands  towards  the  young  man. 

There  was  a  gleam  of  dark  suspicion  in  his  words,  but  Otto 
ttever  observed  it. 

"  Most  certainly,  if  I  can,"  he  replied,  quietly.  "  Compose 
yourself,  Kurt,  she  will  soon  be  found." 

He  went  out,  never  seeing  the  wild,  accusing  glance  of 
Theresa's  eyes.  Taking  five  servants  with  him,  he  carefully 
and  thoroughly  searched  the  strips  of  moorland  bordering 
closely  on  the  park  and  leading  to  the  desolate  tract  on  the 
borders  of  which  he  had  that  afternoon  met  pretty  Maida. 
But,  as  he  had  suspected  would  be  the  case,  his  efibrts  were 
vain.  The  child  could  not  possibly  have  gone  so  far  from 
home.  Of  course  she  would  be  found  somewhere  in  the 
house,  and  Otto  could  not  in  his  heart  grudge  the  baroness 
the  fright  she  had  experienced.  Firmly  convinced  that  he 
should  find  the  little  one  safe  and  sound  in  her  bed  amidst 
happy  parents  and  congratulating  servants,  he  returned  home 
after  several  hours  of  search.  It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when 
he  reached  Buchdorf,  and  passing  through  the  empty  hall 
entered  the  dwelling-room,  where  he  found  no  one  except 
Justice  Ecken,  an  early  friend  of  his  father's. 

"You  find  great  confusion  here,"  he  said,  "and  are,  as  I 
see,  left  quite  alone.     But  you  know  how  it  is, — the  baroness 


A    I A  MIL  V  FEUD.  37 

is  quite  beside  herself  when  her  idol  is  in  question.  Of 
course  the  treasure  is  found.     Eh  ?" 

"  We  hoped  you  Avould  bring  your  little  cousin  back  Trith 
you,"  the  justice  replied,  with  strange  gravity. 

"  I  ?  Excuse  me,  Herr  Ecken,  I  never  dreamed  I 
should  do  so.  I  only  went  to  soothe  Kurt.  In  his  place,  I 
would  have  all  the  barns,  cellars,  and  outhouses  searched.  It 
is  inconceivable  that  a  child  only  three  years  of  age  should  run 
out  upon  the  moor." 

"  It  may  have  been  carried  there,"  the  justice  replied, 
scanning  the  young  man's  face  keenly. 

'*  You  mean  by  the  gipsies  camped  hereabouts  ?  Well, 
that  would  be  no  great  misfortune.  They  will  bring  her 
back  to-morrow  for  a  trifle.  Times  are  far  too  hard  to  admit 
of  their  adding  a  stolen  child  to  their  own  lot." 

"  You  treat  a  grave  matter  very  lightly,"  Ecken  remarked, 
with  a  frown. 

"  Because  I  do  not  believe  it  grave.  A  murder  for  pleasure 
I  hold  to  be  an  old  nurse's  tale ;  so  far  as  I  know,  Kurt  has 
not  an  enemy  in  the  world,  and  who  could  have  any  interest 
in  the  little  creature's  life  or  death  ?" 

''Its  heir .'" 

Otto  recoiled  as  if  he  had  stepped  upon  an  adder.  A  hor- 
rible idea  flashed  upon  him. 

"  What — what  do  you  mean  ?"  he  gasped. 

"  Unhappy  youth,  you  understand  me  only  too  well !  Do 
you  not  know  that  a  noble  name  does  not  shield  you  from 
suspicion  ?" 

"  Can  it  be  that  in  this  matter  any  suspicion  can  fall  upon 
me?" 

"  More  than  that.  An  accusation  in  due  form,  and  attested 
by  a  weight  of  evidence,  is  made  out  against  you.  For  your 
good  father's  sake,  and  for  that  of  your  misguided  youth,  I  hope 
to  heaven  that  you  may  be  able  to  vindicate  yourself     But  at 

4 


38  A   FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

present  the  evidence  against  you  is  so  important  that  I  must 
ask  you  to  follow  uic  to  tlie  carriage  that  waits  in  the  court-yard." 

"  I  um  a  prisoner?" 

"  Yes.  Make  no  resistance.  Those  arc  waiting  in  the  next 
room  whose  duty  it  is  to  enforce  the  law." 

"And  who  has  dared  to  accuse  me?"  cried  Otto,  with 
flashing  eyes. 

"  A  man,  unfortunately,  from  whose  lips  the  accusation 
comes  with  double  authority, — your  long-suifering  relative, 
Baron  von  Arning." 

"  Kurt !"  Otto  almost  shrieked.  It  was  too  much  for  his 
power  of  self-control.  He  staggered  and  fell,  striking  his 
temple  against  the  sharp  edge  of  the  tall,  old-fashioned  secretary. 
The  blood  flowed  freely,  and  probably  this  accidental  relief  to 
his  overwrought  brain  saved  him  from  worse  consequences. 

"Let  us  go,  Herr  Ecken,"  he  said,  rising,  and  holding  his 
handkerchief  to  his  wound.  "  If  Kurt  von  Arning  believes 
me  his  child's  murderer,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

Yes,  incredible  as  it  was,  Kurt  was  his  accuser !  Theresa, 
driven  to  despair  by  the  loss  of  her  child,  by  her  mistrust  of 
Otto,  and  the  fear  of  him  strengthened  by  his  own  thoughtless 
expressions,  had  induced  her  vacillating  husband,  in  his  dis- 
tress and  with  his  mind  filled  with  recently-aroused  doubts 
as  to  his  cousin's  character,  to  accuse  Otto  of  the  abduction 
or  murder  of  little  Beatrice.  His  lengthened  absence  and 
the  breaking  up  of  the  gipsy  camp  strangely  coincided  with 
the  disappearance  of  the  little  heiress.  A  maid-servant  from 
Buchdorf  had  seen  Otto  at  a  distance  emptying  the  contents 
of  his  purse  into  a  gipsy's  hand.  Others  said  they  had  seen 
the  same  gipsy  a  couple  of  hours  later  with  a  child  in  her 
arms.  All  these  reports  reached  Buchdorf  with  incredible 
rapidity,  and  the  police  had  little  difficulty  in  finding  and  ap- 
prehending Maida,  in  spite  of  her  frantic  resistance.  The 
stolen  child,  however,  had  vanished,  and  was  not  to  be  found. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  39 

The  gipsy,  who  had  a  hearing  immediately  after  her  arrest, 
stoutly  denied  all  knowledge  of  the  child.  She  had  the  hatred 
of  her  race  for  the  legal  authorities,  and  was  evidently  de- 
termined to  oppose  force  with  cunning.     But  when  she  waa 

carried  to  the  prison  at  M ,  and  learned  that  she  would 

be  confined  there  perhaps  two  weeks  before  she  was  called  up 
for  another  hearing,  her  courage  forsook  her,  and  she  volun- 
teered to  confess  everything,  since  she  could  not  find  it  in  her 
heart,  she  said,  to  let  the  poor  little  girl  starve.  She  declared 
that  she  had  not  stolen  the  child,  but  found  her  tied  hand  and 
foot  on  the  moor,  and,  in  fear  of  the  police,  had  hidden  her 
in  tlie  cellar  of  a  ruined  cottage  not  far  from  where  she  had 
found  her.  If  the  parents  did  not  search  for  her  there  at 
once  it  might  be  too  late. 

Search  was  immediately  made,  and  Theresa,  who  was  her- 
self with  the  servants  upon  the  spot,  did  actually  find  poor 
Beatrice  lying  senseless  upon  the  damp  floor  in  the  cellar  of 
the  deserted  cottage,  her  wrists  and  ankles  frightfully  swollen 
with  the  cords  that  bound  them,  her  eyes  sunken,  her  pretty 
Lair  all  tangled,  and  without  either  frock  or  hat. 

She  did,  indeed,  after  continued  efibrts  to  revive  her,  slowly 
open  her  eyes,  but  there  was  no  consciousness  in  them.  Neither 
speech  nor  memory  appeared  to  return  with  reawakened  life, 

and  Doctor  Norden,  from  M ,  gravely  shook  his  head, 

and  pronounced  that  the  child's  constitution  had  received  a 
shock  from  which  it  could  hardly  recover. 

The  day  appointed  for  Otto's  trial  arrived.  The  sun  arose 
fresh  and  golden  above  the  dewy  fields.  The  air  was  filled 
with  the  glad  songs  of  birds  as  the  persons  summoned  as  wit- 
nesses went  from  Buchdorf  to  the  court-house  at  M . 

Beneath  a  spreading  beech  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  sat 
Warne,  his  head  in  liis  hand,  so  lost  in  thought  that  a  passer- 
by might  have  thought  him  absorbed  in  contemplation  of  the 
beauty  of  nature,  although  such  an  idea  was  contradicted  by  a 


40  ^    FA  MIL y  FEUD. 

certain  expression  of  gloom  which  his  features  were  not  wont 
to  wear  when  in  the  society  of  others.  In  fact,  Warue  heard 
nothing  of  the  music  in  the  air  or  of  the  rustling  of  the  leafy 
crown  above  his  head.  He  it  was  who  had  told  the  baroness 
that  Otto  had  sent  little  Beatrice  to  the  park-gates,  and  he 
had  been  summoned  to  appear  to-day  as  a  witness  against  Herr 
von  Arning.  As  he  sat  here,  surrounded  by  all  that  was 
lovely  and  peaceful  in  nature,  he  was  deciding  with  burning 
cheeks  but  with  cool  calculation  which  would  be  most  to  his 
own  advantage, — the  condemnation  or  the  acquittal  of  Otto 
von  Arning.  The  young  baron  had  never  been  his  friend, 
and  was,  besides,  the  only  energetic  member  of  the  family  at 
Buchdorf.  Were  he  away  there  would  remain  only  a  weak, 
elderly  man,  an  impulsive,  passionate  woman,  and  a  sickly, 
helpless  child.  The  steward  arose,  and  buttoned  his  light  coat 
across  his  chest,  while  an  expression  of  implacable  cruelty 
animated  his  handsome  face. 

The  birds  were  silent  for  a  moment,  and  the  breeze  lulled, 
when  in  the  silence  was  heard  the  clear  shrill  cry  of  the 
cuckoo, — then  a  second  and  a  third.  The  steward  started, 
but  soon  began  to  count  the  reiterations  as  the  children  do, 

"  Yes,  no,  yes,  no "      The  bird  ceased  at  a  "  yes."     The 

man  smiled  coldly,  and  walked  on  towards  the  town. 

The  court-room  was  crowded,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
accused  awakened  groans  and  hisses.  Among  all  those  as- 
sembled, there  was  scarcely  one  who  had  any  doubt  of  Otto's 
guilt. 

In  that  country  the  customs  are  simple  and  primitive.  The 
inhabitants  are  for  the  most  part  well-to-do.  Robbery  and 
crime  are  of  comparatively  rare  occurrence.  And  who  except 
the  wild  young  baron  at  Buchdorf  could  have  devised  a 
scheme  so  detestable  as  the  murder  of  charming  little  Beatrice? 
There  was  nothing  of  which  he  was  not  capable.  It  had 
always  been  easy  to  see  what  he  would  come  to.     And  then 


A   FA  MIL  V  FEUD.  41 

all  looked  curiously  at  the  three  principal  actors  in  the  scene : 
the  gipsy,  pale,  dishevelled,  and  distraught;  and  the  two 
cousins,  one  of  whom  had  brought  against  the  other  so  terrible 
an  accusation.  To  look  at  them,  Kurt  would  have  been  taken 
for  the  accused.  He  stood  like  an  image  of  woe, — and  no 
wonder!  His  only  child  lay  wrestling  with  death,  and  his 
cousin  who  had  once  been  as  a  son  to  him  was  here  arraigned 
as  a  criminal.  There  was  little  change  to  be  observed  in  Otto, 
except  that  he  was  paler  than  usual. 

The  trial  began ;  but  there  was  little  light  thrown  upon 
the  affair.  Maida  repeated  precisely  what  she  had  said  shortly 
after  her  arrest,  that  when  the  police  came  to  search  her  camp 
she  had  been  afraid  and  had  hidden  the  child,  meaning  to  re- 
lease it  when  the  danger  of  discovery  should  be  past.  She 
stoutly  denied  that  Otto  had  employed  her  to  steal  the  child 
or  that  he  had  ever  mentioned  the  child  to  her.  She  had 
found  it  on  the  Harsbye  moor,  she  insisted,  and  nothing  else 
could  be  extorted  from  her. 

In  fact,  when  the  people  from  the  surrounding  villages  testi- 
fied where  and  when  they  had  seen  her  pass,  it  was  found  im- 
possible that  she  should  have  returned  to  Buchdorf  after 
parting  with  Otto.  But  perhaps  Von  Arning  had  previously 
brought  the  child  out  upon  the  moor.  Where  had  he  been 
all  the  afternoon  ?  No  one  at  Buchdorf  had  seen  him,  and 
was  not  his  own  account  of  himself — that  he  had  been  saunter- 
ing aimlessly  about,  and  had  finally  thrown  himself  on  the 
ground  and  slept  a  long  time — highly  improbable,  pleasure- 
seeker  as  he  was  known  to  be? 

Several  peasants  had  also  met  him  on  the  moor,  although 
he  had  not  noticed  them ;  but  no  one  had  seen  Beatrice  with 
the  accused,  nor  had  the  maid  from  Buchdorf,  who  told  of  hia 
giving  money  to  Maida,  seen  any  child  consigned  to  her  by 
him. 

The  steward  repeated  the  conversation  he  had  overheard, 
4* 


42  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

and  testified  upon  oath  that  he  also  lieard  the  accused 
talking  to  the  child  outside  the  wall  of  the  park.  Beatrice 
had  not  returned ;  but  he  had  seen  Von  Arning  enter  the 
park  alone,  and  had  noticed  something  sparkling  in  his  hand. 
It  probably  was  the  cross  the  child  had  worn  about  her  neck. 
This  Otto  indignantly  denied,  and  no  other  witness  in  support 
of  the  steward's  testimony  was  fortlicoming. 

Thus,  although  the  court  and  all  present  were  wonderfully 
unanimous  in  their  moral  conviction  of  Otto's  guilt,  which 
was  clearly  established  in  the  minds  even  of  the  most  skepti- 
cal, still  the  positive  proof  of  his  crime  demanded  and  insisted 
upon  by  the  defence  was  wanting,  and  the  whole  affair  con- 
tinued to  be  enveloped  in  mystery. 

After  a  long  consultation,  the  gipsy  Maida  was,  upon  her 
own  confession,  declared  guilty  of  the  abduction  of  the  child 
Beatrice,  and  sentenced  to  a  ten  years'  imprisonment ;  while 
Otto,  Baron  von  Arning,  was,  under  the  verdict  "not  proven," 
set  at  large. 

A  wild  shriek  rang  through  the  court-room  when  Maida 
learned  the  terrible  penalty  decreed  to  her  for  her  humanity. 
Otto  bent  over  the  poor  wretch,  and  whispered,  compassionately, 
"Be  quiet,  Maida,  I  will  take  care  of  you;"  but  she  did  not 
understand  him. 

And  then  the  young  man  turned  and  left  the  court-room, 
amid  the  condemning  silence  of  all  present. 

One  heart  in  all  that  assembly  had  been  throbbing  in  in- 
describable anguish  for  him.  Two  black  restless  eyes  had 
scanned  the  judge's  face  with  torturing  eagerness  all  through 
the  trial, — those  of  Bernhardine  von  Tretten.  And  yet,  strangely 
enough,  when  the  disgraceful  sentence  was  pronounced  which 
gave  him  freedom  but  did  not  repair  his  lost  honour,  a  flash 
of  joy  illuminated  her  features,  and  she  drew  a  long  breath  as 
if  a  great  burden  had  been  removed  from  her  heart.  Had  she 
feared  a  worse  fate  for  her  darlino;  ? 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  43 


CHAPTER  V. 

Kurt  was  not  a  little  astonished  when  immediately  after 
his  return  to  Buchdorf  his  cousin  presented  himself  before 
him. 

"  Otto  !"  he  cried,  in  dismay,  ''  how  terribly  changed,  how 
agitated  you  look !" 

"  It  is  odd  that  I  should  look  agitated !  There  certainly  is 
no  cause  for  agitation,"  the  young  baron  rejoined,  with  cold 
contempt,  as  he  opened  the  door  of  the  dining-room  and 
motioned  to  Kurt  to  enter,  adding,  "I  wish  to  have  a  short 
conversation  with  you." 

Kurt  entered  with  some  hesitation,  "  My  poor  Beatrice  is 
dying,"  he  said,  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

"  I  am  the  moi*e  sorry  to  intrude,"  Otto  interrupted  him ; 
"  but  I  must  speak  now,  for  you  surely  understand  that  my 
foot  will  not  cross  your  threshold  a  second  time.  To  business, 
then  !  Although  by  our  laws  I  am  not  yet  of  age,  I  desire  to 
be  released  from  guardianship.  You  will  have  the  kindness 
to  Bee  that  the  papers  are  made  out,  and  sent  in  the  course  of 
a  week  to  M ,  to  Frilulein  von  Tretten." 

"  You  want  to  be  released  from  guardianship  ?" 

"  Out  of  consideration  for  you.  I  would  not  have  you  play 
overseer  to  a  man  '  suspect,^  released  from  prison  on  a  mere  quib- 
ble.    It  is  disgrace  enough  for  you  that  you  bear  his  name  !" 

"  But,  Otto,  I  entreat  you,  let  me  tell  you " 

"  I  will  be  free !"  Otto  cried,  bringing  down  the  butt  of  his 
riding-whip  savagely  upon  the  heavy  oaken  table.  "  Do  you 
understand?  Free — free  from  your  guardianship  !  And  if 
you  will  not  release  me  voluntarily,  I  will  force  you  to  it.  A 
legal  process  has  no  terrors  for  me  now  1" 


44  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  But  wliat  do  you  propose  to  do  ?" 

"  Farm  Ermsdal." 

Kurt  stared  at  the  young  man  as  if  he  thought  him  insane. 
He  would  as  soon  have  supposed  it  possible  to  farm  Sahara  as 
the  marshy  estate  of  Ermsdal. 

"Listen  to  reason,"  he  said,  at  last.  "The  estate  is  in  a 
terrible  condition,  the  castle  is  in  ruins,  the  soil  will  never 
pay  for  tilling  it.  There  are  neither  cattle  nor  labourers  there. 
Indeed  you  will  perish  of  want  if  you  attempt  to  carry  out 
your  crazy  scheme." 

"  That  is  my  affair.  I  came  here  to  rid  myself  of  your 
counsel,  not  to  ask  it." 

"  Once  more.  Otto,  listen,"  the  old  baron  began,  without 
looking  at  the  man  who  had  so  long  been  as  a  child  to 
him.  "  I  will  give  you  Grasort.  Consider  it  your  own, — 
farm  it, — do  what  you  like  with  it.  It  is  as  retired  a  place  as 
Ermsdal,  and  will  yield  you  a  good  income.  Be  ruled  by 
reason,  and  take  it." 

"  From  you  ?  Not  if  it  were  a  crust  to  keep  me  from 
starvation !  Let  there  be  an  end  to  all  this.  Will  you  have 
the  papers  made  out  or  not?" 

"  I  will  order  them  executed,  if  you  insist  upon  it." 

"  Very  well ;  I  shall  expect  to  receive  them  within  a  week 
at  the  farthest."  And  without  saying  farewell,  Otto  left  the 
room  and  the  house. 

They  never  met  again. 

Some  days  after  this,  Aunt  Bernhardine  was  walking  to 
and  fro  restlessly  in  her  little  sitting-room  in  M . 

She  still  wore  the  black  woollen  dress  and  the  spotless  collar 
and  cuffs  in  which  we  saw  her  first,  four  years  before ;  but  the 
time  since  had  not  passed  her  by  without  leaving  traces  of  its 
flight.  There  was  many  a  silver  thread  in  the  smooth  black 
hair,  and  the  intensely  piercing  eyes  were  sunk  deep  in 
their  sockets. 


A   FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  45 

The  coffee-urn  was  hissing  comfortably,  but  Aunt  Bernhar- 
dine,  thorough  old  maid  though  she  was,  did  not  appear  to 
need  her  cup  of  coffee. 

Upon  her  carefully  arranged  work-table  lay  the  papers  sent 
her  that  morning  by  Baron  Kurt,  declaring  Otto  legally  of 
age ;  but  her  nephew  she  had  not  seen  or  heard  of  since  his 
dismissal,  and  she  began  to  dread  the  worst. 

Depressed  and  anxious,  she  went  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  into  the  early  morning.  The  milkmaids  were  hurrying 
about  the  streets  with  their  milk-cans,  a  baker's  boy  was 
leaving  bread  at  a  neighboring  house ;  there  was  no  other  sign 
of  life  stirring ;  most  of  the  shops  even  were  still  closed. 

Suddenly  the  door  of  the  room  was  thrown  open,  and  be- 
fore Aunt  Bernhardine's  startled  eyes  stood  the  nephew  of 
whom  she  had  been  thinking  so  sadly.  But  what  a  spectacle 
he  presented !  The  canoness  scarcely  recognized  him.  His 
clothes  hung  about  him,  disordered, — his  hair  was  matted  with 
blood  from  the  re-opened  wound  on  his  temple.  His  haggard 
features  showed  his  utter  exhaustion, — despair  looked  from 
his  gleaming  eyes. 

"  Otto,"  his  aunt  cried,  rapturously,  hastening  towards  him. 
"  Thank  God,  you  are  here  once  more  !     Thank  God  !" 

He  sank  down  wearily  upon  the  chair  by  the  window. 

"  You  thought  there  was  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  put  a 
bullet  through  my  brains  ?"  he  said,  pressing  his  hot  forehead 
against  the  cool  glass  pane.  "  I  think  I  once  said  something  of 
the  kind  to  you.  But  I  did  not  stand  in  court  by  any  fault  of 
mine,  and  just  now  I  am  really  interested  in  finding  out  how 
much  a  human  being  can  endure  without  going  mad." 

Frilulein  von  Tretten  stood  before  her  nephew  mute  and 
trembling.  She  seemed  scarcely  able  to  endure  the  sight  of 
the  devastation  wrought  in  her  darling  by  the  events  of  the 
last  few  weeks. 

"  You  must  be  yourself  again,  Otto,"  she  suddenly  gasped, 


46  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  or  else If  you  had  laid  hands  on  your  own  life,  I " 

She  could  not  proceed  ;  she  controlled  herself  by  a  strong 
effort,  but  her  lips  refused  to  utter  the  words  of  consolation 
she  would  fain  have  spoken.  She  could  only  ask,  in  a  low, 
faint  tone,  "  Where  have  you  been,  Otto,  while  I  have  so 
suffered  from  anxiety  about  you  ?" 

"  I  searched  out  Maida's  people,  and  last  night  made  an  at- 
tempt with  her  father  to  release  his  child.  Oh,  no  fear,"  he 
added,  in  reply  to  the  old  canoness's  horrified  glance.  "  The 
overseer  of  the  prison  when  he  makes  his  rounds  this  morning 
will  find  her  still  in  her  cell." 
"  Your  attempt  failed,  then?" 

"  No.  The  gipsy  knew  one  of  the  turnkeys,  whom  we 
bribed.  I  sold  my  watch  and  chain ;  it  was  just  enough. 
The  man  opened  a  side  door  for  us  last  night,  and  we  found 
the  way  to  her  cell." 

"Well?"  Aunt  Bernhardine  asked,  eagerly,  as  Otto  paused 
and  gazed  stolidly  out  of  the  window. 

"  Maida  lay  upon  her  cot,  dead, — already  cold.  A  child  of 
the  forest  and  field  cannot  long  endure  prison  walls !" 

"  It  is  well  for  her,  Otto ;  do  not  let  it  distress  you  so," 
Aunt  Bernhardine  at  last  found  words  to  say,  soothingly. 
*'  After  all,  what  is  it  ?  A  gipsy  more  or  less !  And  it  is 
what  we  all  must  come  to." 

Otto  sprang  up.  "  Oh,  God  !"  he  murmured,  pressing  his 
hand  to  his  forehead.  "  Gone,  gone  !  And  she  might  still 
have  enjoyed  her  freedom.     Life  would  have  been  a  precious 

gift  to  her.  while  I A  condemned  murderer  is  far  happier : 

death  must  soon  release  him." 

Meanwhile,  Aunt  Bernhardine  had  begun  to  prepare  the 
coffee.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  and  there  was  a  shy  terror  in 
her  glance  as  she  looked  at  her  nephew,  which  must  have 
struck  him  if  he  had  not  been  so  absorbed  by  his  own  hard 
fate.     She  had  not  taken   his  hand,  she  scarcely  ventured 


A   FA  MIL  F  FEUD.  47 

to  meet  his  eye,  and  now  when  she  attempted  to  fill  his  cofiee- 
cup  her  hand  trembled  so  that  some  drops  were  spilled  upon 
the  spotless  table-cover. 

"  You  must  live, — you  must  still  enjoy  your  life,"  she  said, 
with  the  energy  of  despair.  "  The  present  is  horrible,  Otto, 
but  the  future  is  your  own ;  cling  to  that.  At  all  events,  you 
are  acquitted,"  she  added,  in  an  undertone,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Otto  stopped  pacing  to  and  fro  in  the  room.  "  Acquitted  ?" 
he  repeated.  "  Do  you  know  what  '  not  proven'  means  ?  Do 
not  speak !  not  a  word  !  or  I  shall  go  mad  !  Tell  me.  Aunt 
Bernhardine,  do  you  know  of  one  single  act  in  all  my  life 
that  could  give  them  a  right  to  believe  me  capable  of  such  a 
crime  ?  Has  my  past  been  a  murderer's  past  ?  A  murderer's  ? 
Why,  that  is  nothing  !  A  man  may  murder  and  still  be  honest. 
Many  a  murderer  shines  in  history  as  a  hero  !  But,  look  you, 
this  it  is :  the  murder — oh,  there  are  no  words  ia  which, 
to  tell  it ! — the  murder  of  a  baby  girl,  a  little  creature  who 
never  injured  me,  who  ran  to  me  with  delight  whenever  she 
saw  me,  to  cling  to  my  hand  with  a  caress ;  the  murder  of 
a  child  of  the  man  who  was  father,  brother  to  me ;  why,  I 
had  carried  her  in  my  arms  a  hundred  times — 'tis  too  much, 
too  much !  There  is  not  a  common  felon  in  existence  who 
may  not  raise  his  hand  to  heaven  and  thank  God  that  he  is 
not  what  they  would  stamp  me  !" 

He  stopped  and  burst  into  tears.  It  was  the  first  time  since  his 
childhood  that  Aunt  Bernhardine  had  seen  her  nephew  weep. 

She  sat  upright  and  stiff  in  her  arm-chair,  listening  to  his 
outburst  of  despair,  without  interrupting  it  by  a  single  sylla- 
ble. The  tremor,  as  if  from  a  fever-fit,  that  agitated  her 
strongly-knit  frame  seemed,  in  one  of  her  strength  of  char- 
acter, almost  too  violent  to  be  the  eiFect  of  mere  compassion, 
even  although  the  being  thus  pitied  were  dearer  to  her  than 
aught  else  on  earth.  Once  or  twice  her  parched  lips  opened, 
but  no  sound  issued  from  them,  and  several  minutes  elapsed 


48  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

before  she  mastered  her  weakness.  Then,  however,  the  con- 
quest was  complete.  With  the  accustomed  expression  of 
gloomy  resolve  upon  her  quiet  face,  she  arose,  went  to  Otto, 
and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Do  not  be  unjust  to  your  fate.  Otto,"  she  said,  with  singu- 
lar emphasis.  "  With  all  the  agony  these  last  weeks  have 
biought  you,  they  have  yet  made  you  lord  of  Buchdorf  The 
child  is  in  a  hopeless  condition." 

Otto  thrust  aside  her  hand,  almost  with  aversion. 

"  Oh,  horrible  !  Aunt  Bernhardine  !"  he  gasped.  "  Can  a 
blood-stained  inheritance  atone  for  my  lost  honour?  Never, 
never  would  I  accept  it !" 

The  canoness  looked  keenly  and  scrutinizingly  in  his  face 
for  an  instant,  then  turned  away  with  a  shrug. 

"  I  did  not  think  you  so  sentimental,"  she  said,  with  a 
scornful  smile.  "  After  this  wise  determination  on  your 
part,  I  am  curious  to  know  what  are  your  plans  for  the 
future." 

The  entrance  of  a  servant  interrupted  the  interview. 

"  Frilulein  von  Tretten,  the  Jew  is  here  again,  and  will 
not  go  away.  He  says  he  must  have  the  money  to-day,  or  the 
Herr  Baron " 

At  a  sign  from  her  mistress  she  stopped  short.  But  it  was 
too  late.  Just  as  the  servant,  with  a  start,  perceived  who  was 
present.  Otto  advanced. 

"  You  have  debts  ?"  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  Yes, — no, — a  few  purchases  ;  nothing  more."  Aunt 
Bernhardine  was  embarrassed, — a  rare  condition  of  mind  for 
her. 

Otto  suspected  the  truth.  He  had  contracted  a  certain 
amount  of  debt  in  his  gay  career,  and  had  carried  his  ex- 
hausted credit  to  the  usurers,  to  whom,  of  course,  he  was  obliged 
to  pay  a  high  rate  of  interest.  "  It  was  like  you,"  he  said,  "  to 
try  to  relieve  me  in  secret.    But  we  must  have  an  end  to  such 


A   FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  49 

generosity  which  you  can  ill  afford.  Show  the  Jew  into 
another  room,"  he  said  to  the  servant,  "  and  I  will  see  him 
immediately." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  do  not,"  Aunt  Bernhardine  entreated. 
"  He  must  not  sec  you  here.  Let  me  speak  with  him.  Per- 
haps I  can " 

"  No,  no,  I  certainly  do  not  intend  to  ruin  you.  Let  mo 
I  fg  of  you,  once  for  all,  not  to  interfere  in  this  matter." 

The  tone  in  which  these  words  were  spoken  forbade  all 
contradiction.  Bernhardine  was  silent,  while  the  young 
baron  brushed  aside  the  hair  from  his  eyes,  and,  slightly  re- 
arranging his  dress,  went  into  an  adjoining  room,  where  the 
Jew  awaited  him. 

The  man  was  dwarfish  in  stature  and  Unclean  in  attire. 
His  grizzled  hair  hung  over  his  forehead.  He  had  a  hooked 
nose  and  small  cunning  eyes.  After  the  fashion  of  his  kind 
in  the  country  and  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  he  stood 
against  the  wall  as  near  as  possible  to  the  door.  It  did  not 
often  fall  to  his  lot  to  be  admitted  to  the  private  apartments 
of  his  creditors,  and  indeed,  since  Lieutenant  von  A.,  of  the 
hussars,  had  forced  him,  with  a  pistol  at  his  ear,  to  swallow  his 
own  note  of  hand,  he  had  avoided  such  places  as  fiir  as  possible. 

He  started  involuntarily,  in  a  kind  of  terror,  when,  instead 
of  meeting  the  canoness,  he  found  himself  confronted  with 
the  young  baron,  whom  he  had  long  sought  in  vain. 

Otto  saw  the  movement,  and  the  ghost  of  a  smile  hovered 
about  his  lips. 

'•  Good-morning,  Aaron,"  he  said,  motioning  towards  a 
cliair ;  a  courtesy  to  which  the  Jew  responded  by  edging 
still  nearer  the  door.  "  What  are  you  afraid  of?  you  must 
have  expected  me." 

"  Oh,  certainly ;  of  course  I  expected  the  Herr  Baron, — 
of  course.  Do  I  not  know  that  the  Herr  Baron  would  never 
deceive  a  poor  man  and  the  father  of  a  family  ?  When  evil 
c  5 


50  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

men  told  me  that  the  Ilerr  Baron  was  gone  far  away  across 
the  water, — what  will  not  such  evil  men  say  ? — I  told  them, 
'  The  Herr  Baron  is  not  gone,  for  the  Herr  Baron  never  would 
deceive  a  poor  Jew.'  " 

"  No,  I  will  not  deceive  you.  You  come  about  your 
money?" 

"  Yes,  Herr  Baron,  about  the  small  sum,  you  remember," 
Aaron  hastily  replied,  approaching  Otto  and  taking  a  paper 
from  his  pocket.  "  It  is  a  little  over  the  time,  but  no  matter 
for  that.  The  Herr  Baron  will  pay  the  interest  for  the  few 
extra  days — only  a  small  matter  between  old  acquaintances." 

"  That's  all  very  fine ;  but  I  have  no  money." 

"  No  matter,  no  matter.  If  the  Herr  Baron  has  no  money, 
Baron  Kurt  will  pay,  or  the  mam'selle  aunt." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Aaron.  FrLiulein  von  Tretten  cmi  not, 
and  my  cousin  will  not,  shall  not,  after  what  has  passed." 

"  But,"  asked  the  usurer,  growing  anxious,  "how  then  shall 
I  get  my  money  ?     I  must  have  my  money." 

Otto  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  possess  nothing  in  the 
world  save  the  clothes  I  wear ;  not  even  a  watch  and  chain. 
Ermsdal,  upon  the  possession  of  which  I  have  just  entered,  is, 
as  you  know,  an  entailed  estate.  It  cannot  be  sold,  and,  even 
if  it  could,  it  would  not  suffice  to  pay  my  debts." 

"  I  am  robbed !"  cried  Aaron,  seizing  his  head  between  his 
hands.  "  My  money,  my  precious  money,  has  gone  !  But  it 
shall  not  be.  I  will  go  to  the  lawyers ;  they  will  not  see  a 
poor  man  robbed.  And  I  will  not  spare  the  Herr  Baron.  He 
shall  repent  deceiving  the  poor  Jew." 

"  You  would  do  all  that,  of  course,  if  you  could,"  Otto  said, 
coolly,     "  Fortunately,  you  cannot." 

"  Cannot!     And  why  not?" 

"  For  the  simple  reason  that  when  I  signed  the  paper  you 
have  there  I  was  under  age.  In  a  court  of  justice  that  sig- 
nature is  not  worth  the  paper  upon  which  it  is  written." 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  51 

"  Oh,  God  of  Abraham !"  cried  Aaron.  "  I  am  a  ruined 
man  if  this  be  so." 

"  Go  examine  the  certificate  of  my  baptism  to  convinco 
you,''  Otto  coolly  rejoined.  "  You  do  not  attach  much  im- 
portance to  baptism,  it  is  true,  but  I  know  you  have  an  eye 
for  dates  and  figures." 

"  Did  I  not  see  the  Herr  Baron's  birth  set  down  in  the  fine 
book,  small  and  thick,  all  bound  in  silver  and  gold,  the  day 
when " 

"  I  took  advantage  then  of  a  misprint,"  Otto  interrupted 
him,  "  which  made  me  a  year  older  than  I  am." 

"  Fool,  fool  that  I  was  !"  cried  Aaron,  in  an  agony  of  terror 
and  dismay.  "  But  how  can  a  nobleman  so  abuse  the  confi- 
dence of  an  honest  Israelite  as  to  give  him  worthless  paper  for 
good  money.  What  is  it  to  be  a  nobleman  ?  You  are  none  ; 
you  are " 

"  Hold  !"  Otto  haughtily  interrupted  him.  "  Don't  speak 
of  what  you  can't  understand.  I  signed  the  paper  to  satisfy 
you  ;  for  me,  for  any  man  of  honour,  a  written  promise  was  not 
necessary.  It  does  not  bind  me,  nor  will  it  prevent  me  from 
keeping  my  word  and  paying  what  I  owe.  Tear  up  the  paper, 
burn  it,  swallow  it  if  you  choose;  your  appetite  has  been 
known  to  be  capricious  sometimes.  I  shall,  notwithstanding, 
pay  you  what  I  owe  you." 

"  With  interest  ?"  Aaron  asked,  relieved. 

"  With  interest,  simple  and  compound,  as  soon  as  I  can. 
You  must  help  me  to  do  so.  Instead  of  exhausting  yourself 
in  empty  threats  and  abuse,  lend  me  another  thousand  thalers 
for  at  least  three  years.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I  hope  to  pay 
you  both  capital  and  interest.  No — hear  me  to  the  end,"  he 
went  on,  hurriedly,  as  the  Jew  was  about  to  object.  "  I  have 
been  declared  legally  of  age,  and  my  signature  now  is  valid. 
I  am  about  to  undertake  to  farm  Ermsdal.  The  soil  there  was 
not  always  as  worthless  as  it  seems  to-day.     It  has  been  ex- 


52  A   FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

haustcd,  and  when  it  ceased  to  yield  crops  its  possessors 
deserted  and  forsook  it.  I  know  the  estate  is  at  present  a 
desert,  and  it  will  cost  both  time  and  labour  to  repair  the 
neglect  of  years  ;  still  it  is  not  impossible.  Farming-tools  must 
be  procured  and  cattle  purchased.  I  must  dig  ditches  and 
drains,  and  repair  and  build  stalls  and  outhouses.  You  see  a 
thousand  thalers  is  little  enough  for  my  purpose,  and  that  I 
could  easily  spend  that  sum  four  or  five  times  told,  but  I  ask 
only  what  I  am  certain  I  can  repay  in  three  years'  time.  Once 
again,  then,  Aaron,  give  me  means  and  time  to  work,  and  I 
will  repay  you  to  the  uttermost  farthing." 

While  Otto  spoke,  the  old  usurer's  small  eyes  had  keenly 
scanned  the  young  man's  face.  He  knew  mankind,  had  had 
to  do  with  men  of  all  ranks,  trades,  and  professions,  and  this 
was  by  no  means  the  first  ruined  lordling  he  had  confronted. 
How  often  he  had  heard  the  words,  "  My  good  Aaron,  only 
give  me  time !  My  uncle,  or  my  father,  or  my  friend,  will 
surely  come  to  my  aid."  But  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
now  heard  a  Herr  Baron  plead,  "  Give  me  time  and  I  will 
work." 

Various  thoughts  and  considerations  were  busy  in  the  Jew's 
brain.  Young  Arning's  courage  in  facing  the  worst  greatly 
impressed  him.  And  then,  although  few  believed  it,  a  human 
heart  was  beating  in  his  breast ;  not  indeed  that  there  was 
any  pity  there  for  those  who  when  rich  and  happy  desidsed 
and  mocked  him  to  whom  they  crouched  servilely  in  their 
misfortune,  but  Otto  had  never  insulted  him.  He  had  had  a 
liking  for  the  gay  frank  student,  and  the  change  that  had 
come  over  the  young  man  since  the  trial  did  not  escape  his 
penetration.  He  knew  what  disgrace  and  humiliation  were. 
Had  he  not  felt  their  stings  ?  Ard  is  there  a  wretch  on  earth 
who  can  endure  scorn  with  genuine  indifiierence  ? 

"  My  proposal  requires  time  for  consideration,"  Otto  began 
again,  as  the  usurer  kept  silence.  "So  be  it!   Give  me  an  answer 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  53 

to-morrow.  But  reflect  tliat  it  will  not  be  wise  to  drive  me  to 
extremities.  I  do  not  set  much  value  on  my  life  at  present, 
and  if  you  should  add  to  its  worthlessness — why,  I  had  best 
throw  it  away,  and  you  can  take  possession  of  whatever  eflfects 
I  leave  behind  me." 

This  last  threat  settled  the  matter, — but  not  this  alone,  let  us 
do.  the  old  usurer  the  justice  to  admit ;  mingled  with  the  baser 
selfish  motive  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  compassion  for 
Otto's  misfortunes,  and  of  confidence  in  his  integrity. 

"  God  of  Abraham,  what  injustice  the  Herr  Baron  does 
the  poor  Jew  !"  he  said,  humbly.  "  I  was  silent  only  from 
surprise.  The  Herr  Baron  shall  have  the  thousand  thalers, 
and  the  God  of  my  fathers  send  him  a  blessing  with  the  money  I 
Did  I  not  always  do  what  I  could  for  the  Herr  Baron  ?  And 
he  will  not  deceive  the  poor  man  who  loves  him,  and  who  has 
a  wife  and  six  children " 

"  No,  Aaron,  I  will  not,"  Otto  von  Arning  made  answer, 
offering  his  hand  to  the  Jew,  "  and  I  will  be  grateful  to  you 
as  long  as  I  live." 

The  next  day  Otto  went  alone  and  on  foot  to  Ermsdal,  with 
which  he  was  by  no  means  familiar,  so  infrequent  had  been  his 
previous  visits  to  the  estate.  The  inhabitants  of  the  village,  and 
the  various  tenantry,  might  be  seen  in  sorrowful  consultation 
here  and  there,  on  the  roads,  in  the  fields.  They  knew  that 
their  master  was  about  to  take  up  his  abode  among  them,  and 
they  were  not  at  all  charmed  with  the  prospect.  The  Arnings 
had  been  a  haughty,  self-willed  race,  regarding  their  lands  and 
tenantry  simply  as  means  of  income,  and  what  could  be  ex- 
pected of  the  wild  young  Baron  Otto,  whom  they  had  once 
or  twice  seen  galloping  madly  past  their  dwellings  ?  What 
good  could  they  ever  gain  from  a  master  who  had  but  just 
escaped  the  gallows  ? 

It  was  no  rose-strewn  path  by  which  Otto  thus  entered  his 
future  home,  along  roads  bordered  on  either  side  by  marshy, 


54  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

sterile  meadows,  where,  instead  of  waving  grain,  only  the  coarse 
marsh-grass  was  to  be  seen ;  past  peasants  who  all  regarded 
him  with  gloomy  looks  of  mistrust,  and  who  scarcely  returned 
a  sullen  acknowledgment  of  his  greeting ;  past  straw-thatched 
mud  huts,  the  abodes  of  sordid  want, — to  his  goal,  the  castle. 
The  castle  ?  No,  the  ruin.  In  the  stagnant  waters  of  the  ditch 
lay  whatever  of  the  huge  old  structure  the  flames  had  spared, 
except  those  stones  with  which  the  peasants  had  repaired  their 
miserable  dwellings.  One  massive  tower  was  still  standing, 
and  three  walls  of  a  mediasval  hall  to  which  the  roof  was 
wanting. 

The  Ermsdalers  had  supposed  that  their  lord  would  instantly 
proceed  to  erect  a  smart  abode  for  himself;  they  were  greatly 
mistaken.  All  that  Arning  did  was  to  provide  the  tower  with 
a  rough  wooden  staircase,  and  to  rebuild  a  fourth  wall  to  the  old 
hall  and  provide  it  with  a  thatched  roof.  The  debris  of  the  old 
castle  was  employed  to  fill  up  the  fosse,  and  then  the  young 
baron,  to  the  disapproving  amazement  of  his  tenants,  took  up 
his  abode  in  the  ruin.  He  appropriated  to  himself  the  hall 
and  the  ground-floor  of  the  tower.  The  furniture  consisted  of 
a  couple  of  wooden  tables  and  chairs  of  most  primitive  con- 
struction, and  a  camp  bedstead.  In  the  second  story  of  the 
tower  he  installed  as  housekeeper  an  old  woman  from  the 
village,  who  prepared  his  frugal  meals  for  him  in  a  small  room 
adjoining  the  hall. 


A   FA  MIL  y  FEUD.  55 


CHAPTER   VL 

Six  more  years  liad  passed  by.  The  straw-thatched  abode 
of  the  lord  of  Ermsdal  had  been  replaced  by  no  more  commo- 
dious dwelling,  nor  were  its  master's  surroundings  one  whit 
more  luxurious.  But  in  the  village  the  flower  of  prosperity, 
nipped  by  a  lengthened  frost,  had  begun  slowly  to  put  forth 
fresh  buds.  To  make  this  possible  had  cost  an  amount  of 
thought,  care,  and  industry  of  which  the  disheartened  Erms- 
dal peasantry  had  had  no  conception,  but  Otto  von  Arning  had 
conquered.  In  the  third  summer  the  first  scanty  harvest  was 
reaped  from  the  marshy  meadows.  The  estate  could  not  yet 
be  accounted  o^  value,  but  it  was  in  a  fair  way  to  become  so. 

In  the  country  round,  this  change,  effected  by  the  young 
baron  without  experience  and  almost  without  means,  was  re- 
garded as  little  short  of  a  miracle,  and  many  a  neighbour  wlio 
had  once  warned  his  sons  against  "  wild  young  Arning"  would 
now  gladly  have  made  friends  with  him.  But  no  success 
attended  any  effort  to  this  end. 

Otto  carried  his  misanthropy  to  the  verge,  and  even  beyond 
it,  of  discourtesy.  Although  he  was  among  his  labourers  from 
morning  until  night,  superintending  and  sharing  in  their  toil 
he  had  broken  off"  all  intercourse  with  his  equals,  and  not  one 
of  his  neighbours  could  boast  that  he  had  ever  been  invited 
beneath  the  lord  of  Ermsdal's  straw-thatched  roof. 

The  Ermsdal  peasantry  had  at  first  made  their  master's 
task  no  easy  one.  The  tightening  of  the  reins  of  government 
which  they  expected  had  of  course  ensued  ;  they  were  obliged 
to  work  regularly,  and  Otto  was  not  disposed  to  overlook  the 
transgression  when  his  permission  to  collect  fagots  was  taken 


56  A    FA  MIL}'   FEUD. 

advantage  of  to  break  off  boughs  from  the  young  trees.  They 
looked  with  defiance  and  mistrust  upon  the  master  who  was 
bent  upon  reforming  their  sluggish  lives,  and  many  a  one 
would,  if  he  had  dared,  have  thrown  out  malicious  hints  as  to 
the  suspicion  clouding  Otto's  past.  But  any  such  word  died 
upon  the  lips  that  would  have  uttered  it,  at  sight  of  the  grave, 
piercing  glance,  the  quiet,  serious  features,  of  the  young  baron. 

Afterwards,  when  the  hated  reforms  had  produced  blessed 
results,  when  a  prosperity  long  vanished  again  made  its  appear- 
ance in  the  village,  and  the  lord  of  the  land,  instead  of  ex- 
torting from  them  the  hard  price  of  the  sweat  of  their  brows 
for  his  own  use,  embraced  every  possible  means  to  secure  their 
comfort  and  welfare,  the  reaction  set  in,  and  the  Ermsdaler 
who  would  once  have  snatched  his  child  from  Otto's  path  as 
if  it  were  his  habit  to  murder  children  as  he  snapped  off 
the  tops  of  the  weeds  with  his  stick,  would  now  have  laid 
his  life  that  his  master  was  innocent  of  the  abduction  of  his 
cousin,  and  would  as  gladly  have  spoken  out  his  devotion  in 
words,  as  formerly  his  dislike,  had  not  Arning's  cold,  measured 
demeanor  forbidden  the  expression  alike  of  love  and  of  hatred. 

Everything  had  gone  on  quietly  also  at  Buchdorf  during 
these  years.  Beatrice  was  still  living,  to  the  astonishment  of 
physicians,  and  of  all  who  saw  her.  Contrary  to  old  Nor- 
deu's  expectations  she  had  not  succumbed  to  the  disease  of  the 
brain  that  had  threatened  her  life  six  years  before.  But  since 
then  she  had  been  continually  ailing;  the  shock  had  been  too 
much  for  her  tender  constitution.  She  grew  daily  paler  and 
feebler,  and  her  poor  parents  saw  their  darling  fading  away 
as  it  were  without  the  power  to  aid  or  relieve  her.  In  the 
last  two  years  her  illness  had  greatly  increased.  She  daily 
ate  less,  and  grew  feebler.  Of  late  Norden  had  forbidden  all 
exercise,  and  now  she  was  constantly  confined  to  the  house  for 
weeks  at  a  time. 

Every  one  on  the  estate  loved  the  little  invalid  j  as  she 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  57 

drove  through  the  village  in  the  grand  flxmily  coach  the 
Buchdorfers  would  look  with  compassionate  curiosity  at  the 
lovely  pale  face,  with  the  gentle  brown  eyes,  lying  back  among 
the  cushions  or  in  her  anxious  father's  arms,  and  then,  think- 
ing of  their  own  blooming  children,  would  sadly  shake  their 
heads.  There  was  not  a  father  in  Buchdorf  who  would  have 
exchanged  lots  with  the  wealthy  lord  of  the  soil. 

But  there  was  a  gay  and  life-loving  spirit  in  the  frail  little 
body.  In  Beatrice's  disposition  there  was  no  trace  of  the 
touching  resignation  and  gentleness  which  so  often  seem  to 
irradiate  as  with  the  dawn  of  another  world  those  destined 
to  an  early  death.  She  was  not  ill-tempered,  but  as  quick, 
self-willed,  and  impatient  as  the  healthiest  of  children,  giving 
at  times  by  her  waywardness  a  world  of  trouble  to  her  mother 
and  Friiulein  Normann,  her  governess. 

Meanwhile,  the  powerful  frame  of  the  old  baron  was  making 
rapid  strides  towards  the  grave.  Doctor  Norden  pronounced 
his  disease  an  affection  of  the  heart :  it  was  indeed  an  affectiou 
of  the  heart,  but  not  all  physical. 

The  gentle,  loving  spirit  of  the  old  man  was  perpetually 
tortured  on  the  one  hand  by  the  fading  away  of  his  little  dar- 
ling, and  on  the  other  by  a  scarcely  less  wearing  anxiety  with 
regard  to  Otto,  the  boy  whose  place  in  his  affection  neither 
wife  nor  child  could  fill. 

"Was  he  guilty,  or  innocent?"  This  was  the  agonizing 
thought  that  filled  the  baron's  feverish  brain  through  many 
a  sleepless,  weary  night,  and  the  more  vividly  he  called  up 
his  cousin's  image,  the  more  firm  became  his  conviction  of  the 
impossibility  of  his  guilt — of  his  entire  innocence! 

In  the  first  winter  after  their  separation,  when  his  frienda 
had  told  Kurt  of  the  destitute  poverty  of  Otto's  manner  of  life, 
the  old  baron  had  enclosed  a  thousand  thalers  in  bank  notes 
in  a  kindly  letter  to  the  young  man,  not  only  begging  him  to 
accept  this  gift,  but  also  placing  at  his  disposal  any  sum  he 
c* 


58  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

might  have  need  of.  The  letter  was  returned  to  him  from 
Ermsdal  unopened,  and  since  then  there  had  been  no  inter- 
course between  the  cousins.  Kurt  never  mentioned  Otto's 
name;  he  would  not  allow  Theresa  to  pronounce  it  in  his  pres- 
ence; but  he,  once  so  gay  and  social  in  his  habits,  would  sit 
alone  for  hours  at  a  time,  lost  in  gloomy  reverie,  brooding 
over  the  past  in  vain  regret  for  his  over-hasty  act.  He  no 
longer  attempted  a  reconciliation,  he  knew  Otto  too  well  to 
suppose  it  possible.  But  remorse,  and  anxiety  for  his  child, 
were  wearing  away  his  life. 

When  a  wealthy  man  is  ill  past  all  hope,  his  physician 
always  sends  him  to  some  watering-place,  where  at  least  he  is 
no  longer  responsible  for  him.  Kurt  von  Arning  was  ordered 
first  to  a  German  Bad  and  then  to  Italy.  It  did  him  no  good, 
however,  and  when  after  a  few  months  he  became  convinced 
that  his  death  was  near  at  hand,  he  wrote  home  two  letters, 
one  to  his  wife  and  one  to  his  cousin. 

He  entreated  the  baroness  to  place  the  crown  upon  the 
affection  which  had  blessed  him  since  his  marriage  by  coming 
to  him  immediately,  that  his  dying  eyes  might  be  closed  by  a 
loving  hand.  The  care  of  his  estates  and  of  Beatrice  he  would 
intrust  to  his.  cousin  Otto,  to  whom  he  owed  this  proof  of  con- 
fidence, in  atonement  for  the  past. 

With  a  heavy  heart  Theresa  prepared  to  obey  his  request. 
If  she  could  have  consulted  her  own  wishes  she  certainly  never 
would  have  left  the  child,  dearer  to  her  than  all  the  world  be- 
side, defenceless  in  the  power  of  her  mortal  enemy ;  but  she 
was  strong  and  stern  of  soul,  and  the  conflict  between  duty 
and  desire  was  soon  decided.  Whatever  longing  for  rest  and 
shelter  in  a  world  that  had  been  but  a  forlorn  home  for  her 
had  induced  her  to  marry  a  man  so  much  her  elder,  her 
place  now  certainly  was  beside  her  dying  husband.  She  would 
go  to  Italy,  even  although  her  heart  should  break  in  so  doing. 

Otto's  letter  had  also  arrived  at  its  destination. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  59 

The  messenger  who  brought  it  was  directed  by  a  village 
child  to  the  old  tower,  where  he  arrived  on  a  rainy  evening  in 
April,  and  which  he  never  could  have  suspected  to  be  the 
dwelling-place  of  a  kinsman  of  the  wealthy  lord  of  Buchdorf. 

It  was  a  wild  night ;  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  the  blasts 
of  wind  howled  and  whistled  about  the  ruinous  tower ;  but 
there  was  a  fiercer  tempest  raging  in  young  Arning's  breast, 
as,  with  folded  arms,  he  paced  his  old  hall  restlessly  to  and 
frr. 

The  rough-hewn  walls,  whose  only  decoration  consisted  of 
fowling-pieces  and  implements  of  the  chase,  gleamed  bare  and 
bleak  in  the  dim  light  of  a  single  student-lamp,  which  stood 
on  the  rough  unpolished  oaken  table  and  shed  a  vague  twi- 
light through  the  spacious  apartment.  Besides  this  table,  the 
room  contained  only  two  chairs,  and  a  rude  book-case  filled 
with  medical  and  legal  works;  for  Otto  had  pursued  with 
ardour  the  studies  begun  at  the  university,  and  the  Ermsdalers 
looked  to  their  master  as  their  only  physician. 

The  hall  echoed  eerily  with  the  man's  tread,  and  the  dog 
was  whining  for  admission  outside  the  heavy  oaken  door,  but 
Otto  did  not  hear  him ;  his  thoughts  were  far,  far  away,  in 
Italy,  by  the  bedside  of  his  dying  kinsman.  Beside  the  lamp 
lay  Kurt's  letter,  so  humble  and  touching  an  entreaty  for  for- 
giveness that  even  the  chilled  heart  of  the  young  baron  was 
moved  by  it. 

"  I  leave  in  your  charge  my  child  and  my  estates,"  he  wrote. 
"  You  cannot  refuse  me  this  service ;  for,  look  you,  Otto,  it  is 
the  only  way  in  which  I  can  testify  to  the  world  my  absolute 
confidence  in  you,  and  my  remorse  for  the  grievous  wrong  I 
did  you  in  my  inconceivable  blindness  and  hastiness.  I  pray 
you  do  not  say  no ;  and  although  we  have  so  deeply  sinned 
against  you,  forgive  my  poor  Theresa,  and  forgive  me,  who  am 
by  far  the  guiltier ;  for  I  knew  you  much  better  than  she  did, 
and  yet  I  could  doubt  you.     Forgive,  forgivti,  Otto  !     I  think 


GO  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

I  could  not  rest  in  my  grave  if  I  thought  your  hatred  would 
follow  me  thither." 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  young  baron  continued  silently  to 
pace  to  and  fro  ;  then  he  raised  his  head,  and  although  a  bitter 
smile  hovered  upon  his  lips,  the  fire  of  a  good  resolve  shone 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Dora  !"  he  called  up  the  tower  stairca.se. 

"  Herr  Baron !"  and  an  old  woman  made  her  appearance. 

"  I  wished  to  tell  you  that  you  can  pay  your  niece  the  visit 
you  have  promised  her.  On  the  day  after  to-morrow  I  am 
going  to  Buchdorf,  and  I  cannot  say  how  long  I  shall  be 
absent." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  appointed  day  he  went,  thinking 
that  the  baroness  would  have  departed  the  day  before  or  in 
the  early  morning,  and  that  he  should  thus  avoid  meeting  her. 
He  was  mistaken.  The  baroness,  with  Beatrice  by  her  side, 
was  awaiting  him.  She  was  still  the  proud,  beautiful  woman 
of  ten  years  before,  and  her  dark  travelling  dress  became  her 
admirably.  Beatrice  had  been  dressed  wnth  great  care  for  this 
interview,  quite  too  richly  for  her  age;  but  Theresa,  with  all 
her  taste  in  other  respects,  could  not  refrain  from  tricking  out 
her  darling  in  whatever  was  most  rich  and  costly.  Thus  the 
little  damsel  wore  to-day  an  embroidered  dress  of  blue  silk, 
and  was  guarded  against  the  cold  by  a  mantle  of  black  velvet, 
trimmed  with  lace,  not  to  mention  diamond  ear-rings,  bracelets, 
rings,  etc. 

Beatrice  was  not  short  for  her  age,  although  slender  and 
frail,  like  a  plant  too  rapidly  developed.  Her  face  was  exqui- 
sitely lovely,  but  small  and  thin,  and  of  a  startling  pallor, 
which  was  heightened  by  the  contrast  of  her  dark  curls  and 
black  velvet  mantle.  The  childish  fice  showed  life  and  colour 
only  in  the  wonderful  brown  eyes,  her  mother's  eyes,  but  more 
expressive  and  less  proud ;  in  the  pale,  thin  face  they  looked 
unnaturally  large. 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  Gl 

"  You  have  received  my  poor  husband's  letter  ?"  the  baron- 
ess began,  after  cool  greetings  had  been  exchanged.  "  And  I 
thank  you  from  my  heart  that  you  are  come  to  fulfil  the  last 
desire  of  a  dying  man.  T  can  assure  you  that  the  unfortunate 
estrangement  that  separated  us  years  ago  has  caused  him  many 
a  bitter  hour,  as  it  has  myself.  But — we  will  not  dwell  upon 
the  past ;  you  are  in  Buchdorf  once  more,  you  are  reconciled 
to  your  cousin,  and  I  has' en  to  express  the  desire  that  all  may 
be  forgotten  between  us  also." 

Theresa  had  a  decided  talent  for  dramatic  representation. 
As  she  uttered  these  words  she  was  every  inch  a  princess;  and 
she  never  could  have  forced  her  haughty  soul  to  speak  them, 
never  would  have  declared  that  she  could  either  forget  or  for- 
give the  abduction  of  her  child  (of  which  she  still  in  her 
heart  believed  Otto  guilty),  had  she  not  known  that  Beatrice 
was  to  be  entirely  in  his  power  for  some  time  to  come.  She 
thought  that  she  had  humbled  herself  in  the  dust;  but  the 
young  baron  took  an  entirely  different  view  of  her  words. 

How  dared  she  talk  of  forgetting  ? — she  who  had  annihil-  . 
atcd  his  hopes  and  burdened  his  life  with  disgrace  ?     What 
had  this  woman  to  forget  towards  him  ? 

But  a  solitude  of  six  years  teaches  silence.  He  said  nothing, 
only  lightly  touched  the  hand  extended  to  him,  and  bowed 
gravely.  But  the  frown  deepened  upon  his  brow,  and  Theresa's 
keen  eyes  could  discover  no  sign  of  forgiveness  in  her  foe's 
gloomy  glance. 

In  a  more  uncertain  tone  she  asked,  "  And  what  message 
sliall  I  carry  to  Kurt  from  you  ?  I  know  how  anxiously  he 
is  expecting  a  word  of  comfort." 

"  I  have  written  to  him,  madame.  He  will  probably  re- 
ceive my  letter  simultaneously  with  your  arrival." 

The  baroness  shivered.  Her  kinsman's  icy  manner  seemed 
actually  to  diffuse  a  chill  through  the  air. 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  more  for  me  to  do,  except  to  hand 
6 


62  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

over  my  Beatrice  to  you.  Take  care  of  the  child,  Otto,  and 
be  sure  we  are  already  your  debtors  for  every  kindness  you 
may  show  her.     Speak  to  your  cousin,  Beatrice." 

The  child  looked  up  frankly  into  the  young  man's  face ; 
then  kissing  his  hand  as  she  had  been  wont  to  do  by  her 
father,  she  said,  in  her  clear,  childish  voice,  "  Only  try  me, 
Cnu.sin  Otto ;  you  will  see  how  good  I  can  be." 

The  baroness  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  little  girl  could 
not  have  said  anything  sweeter.  And  she  was  usually  so  shy 
with  strangers,  and  had  sometimes  confused  her  mother  by 
loudly  expressing  in  their  presence  her  dislike  of  them. 

Her  cousin's  grave  face  seemed  to  have  impressed  her. 
"  Thank  God,"  Theresa  said  to  herself,  thinking,  as  many  a 
mother  will,  her  darling  irresistible,  "  if  she  takes  to  him  he 
cannot  but  love  her." 

At  present,  however,  there  were  no  signs  of  so  desirable  an 
effect.  The  young  man  glanced  coldly  towards  the  charming 
child,  and  extricating  his  hand,  though  not  ungently,  from  her 
clasp,  he  turned  to  the  baroness. 

'•  You  allude,  madame,  to  the  only  one  of  my  cousin's 
arrangements  to  which  I  do  not  willingly  conform,"  he  said, 
quietly.  "  I  think  it  would  be  better  for  all  if  you  woidd 
consent  to  leave  Beatrice  with  her  governess  in  lodgings  in 
M ." 

•'  I  cannot,"  Theresa  in  terror  interrupted  him.  "  She  could 
not  bear  the  change.  Doctor  Norden  says  the  country  air  is 
the  best  tonic  she  can  have.  Oh,  accept  the  charge  of  her, 
Otto, — indeed  it  will  be  no  burden  to  you.  On  the  contrary, 
you  will  love  her.     Every  one  loves  my  little  Beatrice." 

Otto  made  a  deprecatory  gesture.  "  It  is  not  the  burden 
that  I  fear,"  he  said,  coldly  ;  "  I  shall  scarcely  see  the  child, 
since  the  charge  of  such  large  estates  will  not,  of  course,  give 
me  time  for  much  personal  intercourse  with  her.  You  have  a 
trustworthy  governess.     But  you  know  Beatrice  is  very,  very 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  63 

weak.  Tlic  catastrophe  which  you  dread  may  occur  soon,  and 
I  would  gladly  avoid  all  responsibility  in  the  matter.  I  have 
endured  so  much  on  account  of  this  child  that  you  can  readily 
comprehend  my  desire  to  avoid  any  repetition  of  such  suffer- 
ing." 

Theresa  sank,  sobbing,  on  a  lounge.  Although  she  knew 
her  child  was  doomed,  she  had  never  before  heard  her  death 
so  plainly,  nay,  roughly  alluded  to.  But  the  suppressed  hatred 
of  six  years  made  Otto  pitiless ;  at  this  moment  the  baroness 
might  have  died  at  his  feet  and  he  would  not  have  lifted  a 
finger  to  save  her.     He  continued,  composedly : 

"  Therefore  I  can  consent  to  remain  beneath  the  same  roof 
with  Beatrice  only  upon  condition,  madame,  that  you  promise 
to  hold  me  free  from  all  responsibility,  whatever  may  occur, 
even  although  circumstances  combine  against  me.  Will  you 
promi.se  this  ?" 

Theresa  sprang  to  her  feet  in  wild  distress.  All  her  self- 
possession,  all  prudential  considerations,  vanished  ;  not  the 
Baroness  von  Arning,  but  a  mother  desperate  with  fear  for 
her  child,  confronted  the  young  man. 

"  I  must,  I  must !"  she  cried.  "  But,  Otto,  Otto,  for  your 
soul's  sake,  spare  my  child.  Whatever  we  may  have  done, 
however  you  may  hate  us,  do  not  wreak  your  revenge  upon 
Beatrice ;  have  pity  upon  her.  She  is  all  I  have  in  the 
world !  You  do  not  know  how  beggared  I  shall  be  if  she  is 
taken  from  me.     How  can  I  touch  your  heart?" 

"  No  more,  madame,"  Otto  interrupted  her,  proudly  and 
sternly,  retreating  a  step  as  she  advanced.  "  The  life  of  your 
child  is  in  God's  hand !  Eemember  that  every  entreaty  for 
its  preservation  addressed  to  me  is  an  insult." 

*'  God  protect  you,  then,  my  poor  darling !"  the  baroness 
groaned,  as  she  bent  over  her  child  and  pressed  her  hot  lips  to 
its  forehead. 

"Otto  !  Otto  I"  she  exclaimed  once  again,  as  she  stood  erect 


64  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

before  him.  "  Take  pity  upon  me  !  G  ivc  me  one  word  of 
comfort !" 

In  her  pale  beauty  she  was  a  touching  sight,  but  he  did  not 
once  look  towards  her;  he  had  stepped  to  the  window.  "The 
coach  is  at  the  door,  madame,"  he  said,  coldly.  "  Permit  me 
to  conduct  you  to  it." 

Theresa  once  more  clasped  little  Beatrice  to  her  heart  with 
passionate  tenderness,  and  then  took  Otto's  offered  arm, 

"  My  child  !"  she  said,  imploringly,  looking  in  his  face  with 
eyes  that  might  have  melted  a  stone,  but  which  produced  no 
effect  upon  the  young  man. 

"  Let  me  entreat  you  to  be  calm,"  he  replied,  and  the 
baroness  entered  the  carriage  and  was  driven  swiftly  from  the 
court-yard. 

She  saw  Otto  turn  into  the  house,  leaving  little  Beatrice 
waving  her  hand  in  the  doorway,  and  then  she  buried  her 
face  in  the  cushions  of  the  carriage  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  A  time  will  come  when  you  would  give  years  of  your  life 
to  blot  the  memory  of  this  hour  from  your  conscience,"  Otto 
had  said  to  her  six  years  before,  when  she  had  prevented  his 
pursuing  his  university  career.  The  time  had  come.  Not 
years  only,  but  her  life  itself  she  would  gladly  have  resigned 
could  she  have  recalled  the  words  then  spoken, — words  that 
perhaps  condemned  her  child  to  death. 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  65 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Some  weeks  elapsed,  and  Otto  had  in  fact  seen  little  Beatrice 
but  seldom.  She  pursued  her  usual  course  of  life  under  Frau- 
lein  Normann's  supervision,  and  he  had  enough  to  occupy  him 
in  the  management  of  the  estates. 

On  a  gray  rainy  day  in  May,  Aunt  Bernhardine  came  to 
Buchdorf  to  pay  her  nephew  a  visit.  She  had  not  seen  the 
place  for  ten  years,  and,  having  declared  that  she  never  again 
would  accept  from  Kurt  the  hospitality  of  a  night  beneath  his 
roof,  she  was  true  to  her  resolve  in  his  absence.  Her  carriage 
waited  for  her,  and,  when  she  had  said  all  that  she  wished  to 
her  nephew,  they  walked  together  to  the  gate  of  the  park, 
sauntering  slowly  along  the  broad  avenue.  When  one  has  not 
seen  a  place  for  ten  years  there  are  many  notable  changes  to  bo 
observed. 

"  How  tall  that  shrubbery  is  !"  Aunt  Bernhardine  remarked, 
pointing  to  some  young  trees  on  her  left.  "  The  trees  nearly 
overshadow  the  pathway,  and  in  my  time  they  did  not  exist. 
Ah !  whom  have  we  here  ?"  she  interrupted  herself,  as  a  child- 
ish figure  appeared  in  the  pathway  she  had  indicated. 

It  was  Beatrice,  dressed  to-day  in  a  brown  velvet  dress, 
her  head  carefully  tied  up  in  a  blue  embroidered  hood.  She 
was  walking  more  quickly  than  usual,  the  end  of  the  little 
India  shawl,  that  she  wore  in  addition  to  her  warm  dress, 
dragging  unheeded  in  the  mud  behind  her. 

"  Good-morning,  Cousin  Otto,"  she  said,  standing  breathless 
before  the  young  baron,  and  making  at  the  same  time  her  little 
curtsy  to  the  canoness. 

"  You  are  alone,"  Otto  remarked. 

"  Oh,  I  ran  away  from  Frauleiu  Normann.  I  cannot  bear 
G* 


GG  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

the  stale  biscuit  and  wheat  bread  she  gives  me  for  brcakfiist 
and  supper  !  And  the  medicine  for  my  cough  is  disgusting  ! 
They  say  there  is  wine  in  it;  but  why  can't  I  have  real  wine? 
I'd  far  rather  have  the  cough  than  take  it!  I  tell  Friiulein 
Normann  that  I  want  brown  bread,  like  what  other  children 
eat,  and  she  says  I  am  too  ill  to  have  it.  Well  then,  I  am  too 
ill  to  copy  those  hateful  pot-hooks !" 

"  Hey,  Otto,  had  we  not  better  turn  back  and  take  Friiulein 
Normann  to  task  because  she  has  not  let  the  poppet  do  as  she 
pleases  ?"  the  canoness  asked,  with  a  sneer,  after  a  scrutinizing 
look  into  the  emaciated  face. 

Beatrice  took  her  words  in  all  seriousness.  "  No,  you  must 
not  scold  Friiulein  Normann,"  she  said,  hastily,  and  a  flush 
rose  to  the  pale  cheek.  "  I  will  not  have  that !  The  tears 
come  in  her  eyes  when  she  is  scolded,  and  that  must  not  be ; 
but,  for  all  that,  I  will  not  eat  her  old  biscuits  !" 

As  she  ended  this  decided  and  logical  declaration  the  child 
drew  the  shawl  around  her,  and  went  on  along  the  pathway 
with  a  weary,  dragging  gait. 

The  eyes  of  both  aunt  and  nephew  followed  her.  In  Aunt 
Bernhardine's  glance  there  was  an  evil  look  of  triumph,  and 
her  lip  curled  scornfully,  as  she  said  to  Otto, — 

"  And  that  frail,  wayward  little  creature,  with  consumption 
in  every  look  and  gesture,  is  all  that  stands  between  you  and 
Buchdorf  ?" 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  the  baron  gravely  replied ;  "  Beatrice 
is  not  consumptive." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  I  have  examined  her,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Indeed !"  Aunt  Bernhardine  looked  at  her  nephew  as 
if  to  read  his  very  soul.  "  And  what  is  the  result  of  your 
examination  ?" 

"  That  she  has  no  organic  disease.  Doctor  Norden  has 
entii'ely  misunderstood  her  case.     The  child's  constitution  is 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  67 

weak,  and  instead  of  employing  fresh  air  and  exercise  to 
strengthen  it  she  is  prohibited  either.  Her  brain,  too,  is 
daily  crammed  with  stuff  exciting  enough  to  affect  the  nerves 
of  a  really  healthy  child.  It  is  not  yet  too  late,  if  the  baroness 
could  only  bring  herself  to  depart  from  the  system  prescribed 
by  Norden ;  but  two  years  more  of  it  will  make  the  evil 
irremediable,  and  the  child  will  die." 

Aunt  Bernhardine  had  listened  with  eager  attention  to  this 
explanation  ;  she  now  burst  into  a  laugh  so  harsh  and  unmu- 
sical that  two  ravens  in  the  boughs  of  the  tree  beneath  which 
she  was  walking  flew  away  in  terror. 

"  Capital !"  she  cried  ;  "  and  thus  the  child's  ruin  is  Theresa's 
own  work !  Your  best  friend  could  not  do  more  to  further 
your  interests." 

Otto  made  no  reply.  The  look  of  annoyance  and  disgust 
that  came  into  his  eyes  as  Frilulein  von  Tretten  spoke  was 
still  there  when  his  aunt  had  driven  off  and  he  was  slowly 
returning  through  the  shady  avenue.  Without  looking  to  the 
right  or  the  left,  he  was  walking  along  beside  a  narrow  stream, 
when  a  voice  from  the  other  bank  disturbed  his  reverie. 

"  I  want  to  go  home  with  you.  Cousin  Otto,  but  how  shall 
T  cross  the  brook  ?" 

"  There  is  a  bridge  a  little  way  back." 

"  Will  you  wait  for  me  ?" 

"  No,  child." 

"  Oh,  then,  help  me  over !     Do,  Cousin  Otto  !" 

Otto  had  gone  on  a  few  steps.  "  I  have  no  time,"  he  replied, 
walking  on. 

"  How  shall  I  get  across,  then  ?"  Beatrice  called,  almost 
crying. 

"  Why,  jump  across." 

"  But  mamma  says  the  jolt  will  make  my  head  ache,  and 
then  if  I  get  my  shoes  wet " 

"  You  can  put  on  dry  ones." 


68  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  Yfis,  but  I  shall  be  sick,  mamma  says Oh,  I  do  so 

want  to  go  with  you,  Cousin  Otto  !"  and  now  the  tears  really 
filled  her  eyes. 

Otto  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  cannot  help  you,"  he  said, 
indifferently,  proceeding  on  his  way.  An  instant  afterwards 
he  heard  a  clumsy  jump  and  scramble,  and  Beatrice  came 
hurrying  after  him. 

"  Here  I  am.  Cousin  Otto,"  she  cried,  radiant  with  joy, 
"  and  my  shoes  are  not  wet  in  the  least.  May  I  go  with  you 
now  ?" 

"  If  you  choose." 

He  walked  on  at  his  customary  rapid  pace,  which  it  was  of 
course  impossible  for  Beatrice  to  keep  up  with.  Still  he  paid 
no  heed,  perhaps  did  not  hear  the  labouring  gasps  that  issued 
from  the  poor  little  lungs,  until  the  child  said,  timidly, — 

"  Wait  for  me  just  a  little,  little  minute.  Cousin  Otto.  I 
am  so  sorry  I  cannot  run  like  the  other  children." 

Otto  looked  down  into  the  pleading  face,  and  could  not  but 
feel  the  charm  of  the  lovely  eyes.  He  smiled,  and  slackened 
his  pace  to  match  her  own. 

She  instantly  slipped  her  hand  confidingly  into  his,  and 
chattered  on :  "I  do  wish  I  could  run,  and  I  don't  think  it 
would  do  me  any  harm  to  try.  You  know.  Cousin  Otto,  I 
watch  the  children  playing  on  the  village  green,  and  while 
Frilulein  Normann  tells  me  about  the  gods  and  goddesses,  and 
how  the  Greeks  fought  for  Troy, — and  she  tells  me  that  stoiy 
very  often,  for  fear  I  should  forget  it, — I  look  out  at  the  chil- 
dren and  think  how  much  nicer  it  would  be  to  play  it  all  than 
just  to  listen.  I  know  the  village  children  would  play  it  with 
me,  if  I  asked  them.     Don't  you  think  they  would,  cousin  ?" 

Otto  scarcely  replied,  but  Beatrice  rattled  on  until  they 
reached  the  house. 

The  next  day,  at  supper-time.  Otto  was  passing  the  little 
baroness's  nursery  door,  which  stood  ajar.     He  heard  a  sound 


A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  C9 

of  childish  weeping,  interrupted  by  reproof  and  a  constant 
repetition  of  the  same  phrase  in  Friiulein  Normann's  rather 
monotonous  voice. 

"  What  is  the  matter  here  ?"  he  asked,  entering  the  room. 

Beatrice  smiled  at  him  through  her  tears,  while  Friiulein 
Nermann  explained :  "  Beatrice  refuses  to  eat  anything  for 
her  supper  except  common  brown  bread.  I  liave  offered  her 
everything  else,  even  cakes  and  bon-bons,  but  it  is  of  no  use." 

"  I  never  will  eat  that  stuff  again,"  the  child  declared,  a 
wayward  expression  conquering  the  smile  with  which  she  had 
greeted  Otto. 

Without  speaking.  Otto  rang  the  bell.  "  Bring  a  thin  slice 
of  brown  bread  for  the  baroness,"  he  said  to  the  servant  who 
appeared. 

"  But "  Friiulein  Normann  interposed. 

"  I  take  the  responsibility  upon  myself,"  the  baron  briefly 
explained.  "  Now,  Beatrice,"  he  continued,  turning  to  his 
little  cousin,  "  you  shall  have  your  brown  bread,  but  upon  one 
condition.  Afler  you  have  eaten  it  you  must  go  out  on  the 
green  and  play  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  with  the  village  chil- 
dren.    Will  you  do  so  ?" 

"  Oh,  as  long  as  you  like  ;  until  my  bedtime.  Cousin  Otto." 

"  No,  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  only ;  no  more,  and  no  less. 
Friiulein  Normans  will  be  good  enough  to  see  that  you  are 
exact  about  the  time." 

Fraiilein  Normann  promised,  although  with  many  misgiv- 
ings as  to  the  result. 

When,  at  the  appointed  time,  her  charge  came  into  the  house 
flushed  and  with  her  heart  beating  violently,  the  governess  was 
in  great  distress  about  the  illness  sure,  she  thought,  to  ensue. 

But  Beatrice  was  in  the  best  of  spirits, — full  of  the  new 
delight  of  a  game  of  romps  with  other  children,  complaining 
that  she  was  always  the  one  to  be  caught  because  she  could  not 
run  fast,  but  declaring  that  she  should  run  faster  the  next  day ; 


70  A  FAMILY  FEUD. 

and  thus  she  chattered  on  until  she  said  she  was  tired,  and 
asked  to  go  to  bed,  a  most  unusual  request. 

During  the  night  Fraulein  Normann  woke  in  dread  several 
times,  to  find  her  charge  still  sleeping.  It  seemed  quite  un- 
natural that  the  child  should  not  wake  once,  although  she  was 
restless  at  times,  since  it  was  the  first  night  fisr  many  years  in 
which  the  governess  had  not  been  obliged  to  hold  the  little 
hands  repeatedly  in  her  own  and  soothe  the  fevered  imagina- 
tion by  assurances  that  Snow-white's  stepmother  was  not  by 
the  bedside,  nor  the  forty  thieves  hidden  behind  the  stove. 

When  Beatrice  saw  her  cousin  the  next  morning,  she  ran 
to  him,  kissed  his  hand,  and  thanked  him  for  what  he  had 
given  her  the  previous  evening.  She  did  not  dream,  how- 
ever, of  the  magnitude  of  the  gift, — that  with  the  slice  of 
common  bread  he  had  restored  to  her  her  life,  and  with  his 
orders  for  exercise  in  the  fresh  air  he  had  formally  cut  him- 
self oiF  from  the  inheritance  of  Buchdorf. 

From  this  time  a  new  existence  began  for  Beatrice.  Otto 
by  degrees  reformed  her  entire  manner  of  life.  He  arranged 
ner  diet,  and  medicine  and  sweets  were  replaced  by  simple, 
healthy  food.  The  quarter  of  an  hour's  play  in  the  afternoon 
was  prolonged  first  to  half  an  hour,  and  then  to  an  hour,  until 
at  last  whenever  she  was  not  at  her  books  Beati'ice  spent  all 
the  time  ranging  the  woods  and  fields  with  the  village  children. 

When,  one  day,  Fraulein  Normann  was  lamenting  over  the 
destruction  of  one  of  the  child's  fine  silk  gowns,  Otto  asked 
her,  with  a  smile,  why  she  dressed  her  charge  so  foolishly. 
What  use  was  there  for  such  finery  in  the  country  ?  In  con- 
sequence, Beatrice,  to  her  great  delight,  was  provided  with 
dresses  that  would  wash,  and  by  her  own  entreaty  the  long 
curls  on  her  shoulders  fell  beneath  the  scissors.  Whatever 
the  child's  appearance  thus  lost  in  elegance  was  more  than 
atoned  for  by  the  look  of  health  that  now  began  to  characterize 
her  face  and  figure.     At  the  end  of  two  months  she  did  not 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  71 

look  like  the  same  child.  Although  her  cheeks  did  not  jet 
show  the  roses  that  bloomed  on  those  of  her  village  compan- 
ions, a  fresh,  healthy  colour  had  replaced  the  old  pallor,  and 
her  figure,  though  still  slender,  moved  with  the  elasticity  and 
ease  of  perfect  health.  She  also  made  more  rapid  progress  iu 
her  studies,  since  Otto  made  her  diligence  during  lesson-hours 
regulate  her  time  for  play. 

Very  various  were  the  opinions  among  the  Buchdorfera 
regarding  the  altered  life  of  their  future  mistress.  One  wise 
old  peasant  declared  that  it  must  surely  be  all  right,  for  his 
cousin  in  Ermsdal  had  long  since  assured  him  that  the  young 
baron  was  a  much  better  doctor  than  old  Doctor  Norden,  and 
it  was  very  good  in  him  to  take  such  an  interest  iu  the  poor 
little  baroness. 

But  the  greater  number  pronounced  it  a  sin  and  a  shame 
to  let  the  baroness  run  about  so  with  the  village  children  just 
as  if  they  were  her  equals.  "  And,"  they  added,  "  Baron  Otto, 
with  his  gloomy  face,  going  about  and  never  speaking  wheu 
he  can  help  it,  and  never  smiling  at  all,  must  have  his  own 
reasons  for  what  he  does."  They  could  not  imagine  how 
Fraulein  Nermann  could  allow  it  all. 

As  for  Beatrice  herself,  she  brought  to  her  new  physician 
the  gift  of  an  utter  devotion.  However  great  Otto's  reserve 
towards  her  might  be,  she  was  always  desirous  of  being  with 
him  without  disturbing  him.  While  he  was  busy  with  his 
writing  and  accounts  she  would  lie  coiled  up  in  a  corner  of 
the  room  with  a  book,  keeping  so  entirely  quiet  that  he  was 
at  times  not  even  aware  of  her  presence. 

In  his  walks  over  the  estates  she  always  knew  what  direc- 
tion he  had  taken,  and  upon  his  return  he  would  continually 
find  her  patiently  awaiting  him,  seated  on  a  stone  in  some  field 
near  home. 

She  was  always  vexed  when  he  went  to  Ermsdal,  because  then 
he  stayed  away  several  days. 


72  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  Where  is  that  dreadful  Ermsdal  ?"  she  once  asked  him. 

Otto  pointed  in  the  direction  where  it  lay. 

"  Will  you  not  take  me  there  with  you  some  time  ?"  the 
child  asked  again. 

"  No,  that  can't  bo  done,  little  one." 

"Why  can't  it  be  done?" 

Otto  smiled.  "  Between  Buchdorf  and  Ermsdal  there  is  a 
great  wide  swamp  called  the  moor,"  he  replied,  to  satisfy  her. 
*'  No  one  can  go  there  except  myself.  Every  one  else  who 
should  try  would  fall  into  the  swamp  and  be  drowned." 

The  child  listened  wide-eyed  to  this  explanation.  "  I  under- 
stand," she  said,  very  gravely.  "  Just  like  the  rich  man  and 
Lazarus  that  we  read  about  this  morning ;  there  was  a  great 
gulf  fixed  between  them.  But  I  would  have  got  across  it 
somehow  if  I  had  been  Lazarus." 

Although  she  had  always  been  wayward  at  times  to  every 
one,  even  to  the  mother  who  idolized  her,  she  was  never  so 
with  Otto,  but  would  obey  his  slightest  sign,  fulfil  his  least 
command,  however  coldly  it  was  given,  with  an  unreasoning 
docility  like  the  blind  devotion  accorded  by  a  religious  en- 
thusiast to  his  divinity.  It  astonished  every  one,  and  Otto 
himself  most  of  all. 

One  day  a  rough  wooden  chest  arrived  for  the  young  baron 
from  Ermsdal,  and,  as  he  did  not  readily  ask  service  at  the 
hands  of  the  Buchdorf  servants,  he  set  to  work  to  open  it  him- 
self. He  had  just,  after  some  trouble,  succeeded  in  forcing 
his  chisel  a  little  way  between  the  lid  and  the  side  of  the  chest, 
when  the  servant  announced  a  visit  from  a  neighbour  desirous 
of  seeing  him  immediately  upon  business.  Otto  hurriedly  tried 
to  pry  up  the  tightly-nailed  board,  but  in  vain. 

"  I  might  have  spared  myself  my  trouble  for  the  present,"  he 
muttered  to  himself,  as  he  attempted  to  draw  out  the  chisel. 

"  Let  the  iron  stay  in  it.  Cousin  Otto,"  Beatrice  gravely 
advised,  advancing  from  her  corner. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  73 

"  Yes,  little  Solomon,  if  it  would  not  fall  out." 

"  It  must  be  held  there." 

"  Held  there  ?  For  one,  two,  or  three  hours,  until  I  re- 
turn?" 

"Why  not?  I'll  hold  it,  cousin,"  the  child  said,  taking 
hold  of  the  handle  of  the  tool. 

"  You  ?"  laughed  Otto.    "  It  would  hardly  suit  you,  child." 

He  went,  and  upon  his  return,  after  considerably  more  than 
an  hour's  time,  he  was  absolutely  startled  to  find  Beatrice  still 
motionless  on  her  knees  before  the  chest.  The  chisel  had 
been  too  heavy  for  her  hand,  and  she  was  supporting  it  upon 
her  shoulder,  while,  to  make  all  sure,  she  had  inserted  her 
fingers  in  the  opening  between  the  lid  and  the  side  of  the  box. 

*'  Beatrice,  what  are  you  about  there  ?"  the  baron  cried,  in 
surprise. 

"  I  am  holding  your  chisel  for  you,  Cousin  Otto." 

"  My  child,  what  an  insane  idea  !"  Arning  interrupted  her. 

He  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  at  the  child's  folly  or  to 
yield  to  the  strange  unwonted  sensation  that  came  like  the 
warm  breath  of  spring  to  his  chilled  heart  and  sent  the  moist- 
ure to  his  eyes.  It  was  certainly  ridiculous  to  kneel  motion- 
less for  an  hour  holding  a  heavy  chisel  in  place  simply  to  save 
another  five  minutes'  laboiir.  But  there  was  something  so 
unspeakably  touching  in  the  unthinking  devotion  prompting 
the  act  on  the  part  of  so  young  a  child,  that  Otto,  for  whom 
the  last  years  had  been  indeed  barren  of  affection,  could  not 
close  his  heart  against  it. 

"  You  are  not  angry,  cousin  ?"  Beatrice  asked,  as  she  saw 
an  unwonted  expression  in  the  eyes  gazing  at  her  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Angry?    Certainly  not.      On  the  contrary,  child,  I  thank 

you."     And  ho  laid  his  hand  caressingly  on  her  head  with  its 

short  curls.     It  was  the  first  caress  from  her  cousin   that 

Beatrice  had  ever  received,  and  she  grew  crimson  with  delight. 

D  7 


74  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

Thus  the  summer  passed  away.  Kurt's  illness  progressed 
surely  but  slowly ;  there  was  even  a  temporary  amelioration  of 
his  condition.  His  reconciliation  with  Otto  partially  restored 
his  forces,  and  the  good  accounts  received  from  Fraulein  Nor- 
mann  of  hLs  child's  health  helped  to  retain  him  in  existence. 

Harvest  time  arrived,  and  brought  to  Buchdorf,  among 
other  things,  another  short  visit  from  Aunt  Bernhardine.  She 
asked  several  times  after  Beatrice,  and  was  evidently  disap- 
pointed not  to  find  her  at  home.  The  canoness  would  have 
liked  to  convince  herself  of  the  progress  of  the  child's  disease 
during  the  past  three  months ;  but  Otto  made  very  little  men- 
tion of  the  youthful  heiress,  being  much  occupied  with  the 
harvest.  At  last  Aunt  Bernhardine  agreed  to  walk  through 
the  fields  with  him. 

It  was  a  very  warm  day  ;  the  skies  shone  in  unclouded  blue) 
but  the  two  pedestrians  nevertheless  walked  on  briskly.  Sud- 
denly a  sound  of  youthful  shouts  and  laughter  reached  their 
ears  from  a  steep  eminence  on  one  side  of  the  pathway ;  on 
its  summit  a  troop  of  girls,  carrying  baskets  and  cans  filled 
with  blackberries,  made  their  appearance,  while  one  figure  de- 
tached itself  from  the  merry  group  and  ran,  half  bounding, 
half  sliding,  down  the  hillside  until  it  stood  directly  in  front 
of  the  aunt  and  nephew.  It  was  Beatrice,  who  with  stained 
lips  and  hands,  and  dress  torn  and  scratched  by  the  brambles, 
triumphantly  ofiiered  to  her  cousin  the  basket  of  fruit  she  had 
herself  gathered.  She  wore  no  hat,  and  her  short  hair  hung 
in  a  tangle  about  her  sunburned  face. 

"  How  heated  you  are,  you  little  romp !"  Otto  said,  laying 
his  hand  lightly  on  her  forehead.  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ? 
I  thought  this  was  lesson-time." 

"  Why,  it  is  Wednesday  afternoon,"  the  child  said,  merrily. 
"  Take  some  blackberries.  Cousin  Otto." 

Otto  declined ;  then  added,  "  You  forget  to  speak  to  Aunt 
Bernhardine,  and  you  should  ofi'er  her  some  berries." 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  75* 

Beatrice  turned  to  the  canoness,  and  held  out  one  hand  in 
greeting,  while  with  the  other  she  proffered  her  basket  of 
berries. 

But  Aunt  Bernhardine  accepted  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other.  Her  gaze  was  riveted  upon  the  blooming  young  face, 
that  no  longer  showed  a  trace  of  languor  or  disease,  and  in  which 
the  eyes  sparkled  with  gay,  childish  merriment.  Friiulein 
von  Tretten  grew  paler  as  she  looked,  and  the  gaze  from  her 
piercing  black  orbs  would  better  have  suited  an  encounter  with 
an  imp  of  darkness  than  with  the  bright,  childish  vision  it 
rested  upon. 

When  Beatrice  found  her  courtesy  rejected,  she  turned  and 
scrambled  up  the  hill  again  like  a  squirrel. 

Otto  went  on  with  what  he  had  been  saying.  "  This  field, 
as  I  told  you " 

But  the  canoness  interrupted  him.  Laying  her  hard  right 
hand  heavily  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder,  she  pointed 
towards  the  hill  with  her  left. 

"  What  does  that  mean.  Otto?"  she  asked,  with  suppressed 
passion. 

Otto  smiled.  "  We  have  the  proof  there  of  what  I  told 
you  in  the  spring  about  Beatrice's  health." 

Aunt  Bernhardine's  hand  dropped  by  her  side.  She  looked 
abroad  over  the  fields  yellow  with  grain,  with  their  hundreds 
of  labourers  busy  binding  the  sheaves,^)ver  the  fair  broad  acres 
which  for  as  far  around  as  the  eye  could  reach  belonged  to  the 
romping  child  who  had  just  vanished  from  her  sight, — and 
then  she  turned  to  her  nephew.  "  Otto,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  "  you  are  a  fool." 

"  I  know  that,  Aunt  Bernhardine." 

*  *  *  *  sf:  *  * 

The  autumn  had  come,  the  faded  leaves  were  rustling  down 
from  the  trees,  and  Kurt  von  Arning,  whose  life  had  bright- 
ened up  for  a  brief  space  like  the  flame  of  a  dying  lamp,  drew 


76  4   FAMILY  FEUD. 

his  last  breath  placidly  and  painlessly.  When  his  body 
had  been  carried  to  its  grave  in  a  foreign  soil,  Theresa  hastened 
to  leave  Italy.  She  followed  in  eager  haste  the  dispatch  an- 
nouncing her  husband's  demise,  and  reached  Buchdorf  on  a 
cold  morning  in  November.  She  had  sent  no  previous  intel- 
ligence of  the  time  of  her  arrival,  wishing  to  surprise  those 
who  expected  her.  Such  surprises,  however,  rarely  produce 
anything  save  disappointment  to  those  concerned ;  and  this 
occasion  formed  no  exception  to  the  rule.  She  could  not 
have  arrived  at  a  more  unfortunate  time,  for  her  idolized  Bea- 
trice was  in  bed  that  day  with  a  trifling  cold.  A  most  severe 
disappointment  it  was  for  the  mother,  to  whom  her  child 
had  been  described  as  perfectly  well,  to  find  her  sick  and 
in  bed. 

She  went,  of  course,  instantly  upon  her  arrival  to  the  nur- 
sery, and,  not  finding  Beatrice  there,  into  the  adjoining  bedroom^ 
"where,  as  if  to  fill  to  the  brim  the  measure  of  ill  fortune,  she 
found  the  little  baroness  alone  and  in  tears.  It  really  seemed 
as  if  some  evil  spirit  were  at  work  here  to  add  fuel  to  the 
flame  that  would  destroy  the  bridge  in  process  of  erection 
across  the  gulf  separating  Theresa  and  Otto.  Fate  seemed 
determined  so  to  widen  the  breach  that  no  human  hand  should 
ever  heal  it  more. 

At  her  mother's  unexpected  appearance,  the  child,  whose 
nerves  were  still  far  from  strong,  burst  into  an  hysterical  fit  of 
crying.  The  terror  with  which  the  baroness  was  filled  by  the 
sight  of  her  child  thus  affected,  deprived  her  of  all  power  of 
self-control.  She  was  beside  herself  with  grief  and  anxiety ; 
she  rang,  she  called,  she  sent  for  Fraulein  Nermann,  for  the 
nursery-maid,  for  Doctor  Norden  ;  she  did  not  know  what  she 
was  doing. 

After  a  while  Beatrice  became  more  composed,  and  Theresa 
learned  that  she  had  been  left  alone  because  Fraulein  Ner- 
mann was  playing  on  the  piano  ;  that  she  was  crying  because 

7 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  77 

Cousin  Otto  had  not  been  to  see  her  once  that  morning,  and 
that  Doctor  Norden  had  not  been  sent  for  at  all.  All  which 
information  only  fed  the  flame  of  Theresa's  hatred  for  her 
kinsman. 

Otto,  who  arrived  from  Grasort,  where  he  had  been  busied 
since  early  morning,  within  half  an  hour  of  the  baroness's  ap- 
pearance at  Buchdorf,  learned  in  the  hall  that  she  had  come. 

He  entered  Beatrice's  nursery,  where  the  baroness  awaited 
him,  with  a  few  grave  words  of  welcome  on  his  lips.  Kurt's 
death  had  moved  him  more  deeply  than  he  had  thought  pos- 
sible after  their  long  alienation.  His  old  grudge  against  him 
had  died  out ;  the  past  was  forgotten.  Even  his  dislike  of 
the  baroness  was  hushed  for  the  time,  and  if  Theresa  had  only 
taken  his  proffered  hand  as  it  was  tendered,  all  might  have 
been  well.  But  she  gave  him  no  time  to  speak.  Indignation 
at  what  she  supposed  his  faithless  conduct,  anxiety  for  her 
child,  anger  that  she  should  have  humbled  herself  to  him  in 
vain, — all  these,  and  many  other  emotions  less  clearly  defined 
in  her  mind,  combined  to  stir  to  its  depths  her  passionate  na- 
ture, and  unfortunately  she  was  now  entirely  her  own  mistress. 
There  was  no  longer  any  consideration  to  induce  her  to  weigh 
her  words,  to  curb  her  tongue.  "  My  child  is  ill !"  she  ex- 
claimed to  Otto,  with  flashing  eyes. 

*'  Yes,"  the  young  man  replied,  with  composure,  "  a  slight 
cold." 

"  Slight  or  not  slight,  why  is  she  left  alone?  She  has  been 
complaining  bitterly  that  you  have  not  been  near  her  to-day. 
My  Beatrice,  sick  and  alone  1" 

"  With  regard  to  that  you  must  call  the  governess  to  ac- 
count.    I  only  undertook  the  management  of  the  property." 

"  Must  I  call  the  governess  to  account  also  for  not  sending 
for  a  physician  to  attend  her?  No,  that  was  7/ottr  work,  Otto. 
I  know  you  said  you  should  see  nothing  of  the  child ;  but, 
nevertheless,  you  have  put  a  stop  to  all  Doctor  Norden's  wise 

7* 


78  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

precautions ;  you  have  treated  my  Beatrice  like  a  peasant's  child, 
exposing  her  to  the  sun  and  weather,  to  everything  that  was 
thought  most  injurious  for  her  feeble  condition.  Can  you  deny 
this?" 

"  Deny  it?"  the  young  baron  replied,  all  his  better  nature 
again  succumbing  to  the  old  hatred  ;  "  deny  it  ?  No ;  although 
I  confess  that  I  could  have  committed  no  greater  folly." 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  would  be  vain  to  attempt  denial,"  the  baron- 
ess began  again.  "  Fraulein  Normann,  and  even  the  most 
stupid  servants  in  the  house,  have  complained  to  me  of  your 
conduct.  I  know  all  that  you  have  done  in  my  absence,  and  I 
know  now  why  you  did  it,  and  why  you  made  me  promise  on  no 
account  to  hold  you  responsible  for  whatever  might  occur.  I 
thank  God  that  I  am  in  time  to  save  my  child !" 

"  Madame,"  Otto  rejoined,  his  brow  dark  with  anger,  "  you 
forget  to  whom  you  speak." 

"  To  whom  I  speak  !"  the  baroness  exclaimed.    "  I  speak  to 

a  man  who,  could  I  but  have  adduced  the  smallest  proof " 

She  hesitated,  terrified  at  her  own  temerity. 

"  Who  what?"  the  bai'on  insisted,  while  such  lightning  shot 
from  his  dark  eyes  that  even  Theresa  paused  for  a  moment 
undecided. 

"  Who,  could  I  have  adduced  the  smallest  proof,  would  not 
six  years  ago  have  escaped  the  penalty  he  deserved,"  she  rashly 
concluded  her  sentence. 

"  Enough,"  Otto  haughtily  replied.  "  Your  friendship, 
madame,  I  have  never  desired,  and  my  cousin's  death  has 
severed  the  only  tie  between  us.  From  this  hour  we  are 
strangers  ;  for  your  sake,  I  trust  we  may  never  meet  again." 

"  No,  no  1  you  shall  not  go  away,"  Beatrice  cried  aloud. 
She  had  been  standing  for  some  minutes  on  the  threshold  of 
her  bedroom,  listening  to  what  was  passing. 

"What!  you  here  too,  little  viper!"  Otto  exclaimed,  trying 
to  extricate  himself  from  the  child's  despairing  embrace. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  79 

"  You  will  go  to  Ermsdal,"  she  cried,  weeping,  "  and  you 
will  never  come  here  again  across  that  dreadful  moor.  Do 
not,  ah,  do  not  at  least  leave  me  so, — say  good-bye.  Cousin 
Otto.     I  have  not  been  a  naughty  girl." 

But  he  pushed  the  child  from  him  with  a  degree  of  violence. 
She  sank  on  the  floor,  and  he  left  the  room  and  the  house. 

Theresa  carried  the  weeping  child  back  to  bed.  Doctor 
Norden  came,  and  had  much  to  say  in  disapproval  of  Otto  and 
his  medical  skill ;  but  as  he  was  an  honest  man  he  could  not 
deny  that  Beatrice  had  been  very  well  during  the  summer,  nor 
could  he  discover  in  her  present  ailment  anything  more  alarm- 
ing than  a  feverish  cold.  He  allowed  her  to  leave  her  bed 
immediately.  For  the  first  time  in  months  she  was  carefully 
dressed  in  silk  and  velvet.  But  the  child  did  nothing  all  day 
long  but  ask  for  Cousin  Otto,  until  at  last  Theresa,  to  quiet 
her,  assured  her  that  she  would  see  him  and  ask  him  to  return. 

The  evening  of  this  agitating  day  found  Otto  once  more 
pacing  to  and  fro  in  the  hall  at  Ermsdal.  The  rain  again  fell 
in  torrents,  the  wind  howled  and  shrieked  louder  than  on  the 
evening  when  Kurt's  letter  had  arrived,  and  between  the  two 
days  lay  spring,  summer,  autumn,  and  one  more  bitter  ex- 
perience. 

In  spite  of  the  huge  crackling  fire  of  logs  in  the  rude  chim- 
ney, it  was  bitter  cold  in  the  hall ;  but  the  chill  did  not  reach 
the  young  baron.  The  student-lamp  still  stood  upon  the 
oaken  table,  but  beside  it  now  lay,  instead  of  Kurt's  letter,  a 
brace  of  pistols.  The  ghostly  shadow  of  Otto's  restless  figure 
flitted  to  and  fro  on  the  rough  walls;  now  and  then  he  laughed 
harshly;  at  last  he  paused.  "Fool!"  he  cried,  striking  lis 
forehead  with  his  clenched  fist.  "  Yes,  Aunt  Bernhardine,  you 
are  right     I  was  a  fool, — an  unutterable  fool  !" 

Slowly  and  clumsily  the  huge  hall  door  leading  cut  of  the 
house  opened  at  this  moment;  a  cold  blast  of  wind  drove  in 
the  falling  rain,  and  the  slender  figure  of  a  child  appeared 


80  A    FA  MIL r  FEUD. 

upon  the  threshold.  Otto  turned  towards  it,  gazed  for  an  in- 
stant at  the  intruder,  and  then  raised  the  lamp  as  if  unable  to 
trust  his  eyes.  But  they  had  not  deceived  him.  Beatrice  von 
Arning  was  standing  timidly  on  the  threshold,  without  hat 
or  outside  covering,  looking  at  him  with  a  world  of  reproach 
in  her  large  eyes.  The  rain  was  dripping  from  her  blue 
silk  dress,  and  her  dark  curls  clung  about  her  brow. 

"Beatrice!  Good  God,  how  came  you  here?" 

"  Across  the  moor,"  the  child  replied,  exhausted.  "  I  told  you 
I  would  come.  Why  did  you  go  away  without  bidding  me  good- 
bye, Cousin  Otto?"  she  went  on,  with  tears  in  her  dark  eyes. 
"  What  have  I  done  to  you  to  make  you  so  angry  with  me?" 

"Across  the  moor?"  Otto  repeated,  as  in  a  dream.  Not  a 
peasant  in  Ermsdal  ventured  without  extreme  caution  to  cross 
the  dangerous  tract  which  this  mere  child  had  just  traversed 
in  the  dark,  stormy  night,  "Across  the  moor?  To  say  good- 
bye— to  me?" 

Involuntarily  he  stooped  and  caught  her  to  his  heart.  He 
kissed  her  forehead,  her  lips,  her  eyes ;  he  had  never  done  so 
before.  But  for  the  moment  he  forgot  his  past  life,  all  that 
lay  between  himself  and  Buchdorf;  he  forgot  that  it  was 
Theresa's  child  whom  he  held  in  his  arms.  He  felt  trans- 
ported to  another  and  a  better  world,  so  intoxicating  was  the 
child's  affectionate  devotion  to  his  staived  heart.  He  closed 
the  door  and  sat  down  with  the  child  on  his  lap,  stroking  her 
wet  hair  tenderly  as  she  nestled  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"You  are  not  angry  with  me  now,  Cousin  Otto?"  she 
asked,  softly. 

He  pressed  her  closer  in  his  arms.  "  Who  could  be  angry 
with  you?"  he  said,  tenderly.  "  How  you  are  shivering,  my 
poor  little  darling !  It  must  have  been  cold  and  stormy  on  the 
moor." 

"Yes,  but  I  was  not  afraid.  I-  knew  that  I  was  coming  to 
you." 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  81 

"My  brave  little  girl!" 

The  old  housekeeper  entered.  "Good  gracious!"  she  ex- 
claimed in  amazement.  "  How  came  the  little  mistress  of 
Buchdorf  here?" 

"Of  Buchdorf "    The  word  that  bioke  the  spell  was 

spoken — Otto  was  himself  again. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  rising,  "  the  child  came  here  to  see  me. 
Heaven  knows  how  she  found  the  way.  Put  her  to  bed, 
Dora,  and  make  her  a  cup  of  warm  weak  tea  to  keep  her  from 
taking  cold.     Go  with  Dora,  Beatrice." 

"But  you  will  come  up  and  see  me,  Cousin  Otto,"  she 
begged,  "or  I  will  not  leave  you." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  will  come  by  and  by.  Go,  and  be  a  good 
girl,  Beatrice." 

But  the  little  baroness  waited  in  vain  for  Otto's  promised 
visit.  Hatred  and  defiance  had  again  taken  up  their  abode 
in  his  heart. 

When  Dora  entered  the  hall  at  five  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing, she  found  her  master  in  his  hunting-dress,  loading  his 
rifle. 

The  old  housekeeper  had  learned  to  read  the  baron's  face 
too  well  not  to  know  that  the  frown  on  his  brow  boded  no 
good. 

"  The  Herr  Baron  is  going  to  hunt  to-day  ?"  sbe  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Will  the  Herr  Baron  be  back  by  noon?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  child  up-stairs,  Herr  Baron  ?" 

"Have  it  taken  home,"  Otto  replied,  throwing  his  rifle 
across  his  shoulder.  "Hire  the  innkeeper's  vehicle,  let  Klaus 
put  on  his  old  livery  coat,  and  tell  him  to  harness  the  four 
grays." 

^'Four  horses,  Herr  Baron?" 

"  Four  horses." 


82  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"Excuse  mc,  Herr  Baron,  but  tlie  men  are  just " 

"  Four  horses,  I  say,"  Otto  repeated,  in  a  tone  and  with  a 
look  that  caused  the  words  to  die  on  Dora's  lips.  "The  noble 
baroness  must  be  conducted  to  her  home  with  all  due  honour," 
he  added,  bitterly,  in  an  undertone. 

The  housekeeper  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  Will  not  the  Herr  Baron  go  up-stairs  before  he  leaves  the 
house?" 

"What  for — why  should  I  go  up-stairs?" 

"Ah,  the  child  has  moaned  and  cried  all  night  long 
because  the  Herr  Baron  did  not  come  up  as  he  promised. 
And  she  is  such  a  dear  little  thing!  And  since  she  came 
all  that  way  in  the  stormy  night — I  should  think — the  Herr 
Baron " 

"Silence!"  And  Otto  stamped  his  foot  on  the  stone  floor. 
"  I  do  not  choose  to  see  her.    Take  good  care  that  she  is  gone 

by  the  time  I  return,  or "     The  rest  of  the  sentence  was 

drowned  in  the  crashing  to  of  the  heavy  oaken  door  as  he 
went  out. 

Dora  went  up-stairs  again,  shaking  her  head. 

"  He  will  not  come,  my  pretty  pet,"  she  said  to  Beatrice. 
"  But  don't  fret.     He's  in  such  a  temper  that  he's  no  loss." 

Then  she  went  to  obey  Otto's  orders ;  and  an  hour  later,  in 
spite  of  her  tears  and  straggles,  in  spite  of  her  entreaties  to  be 
allowed  to  see  Cousin  Otto  once  more,  poor  Beatrice  was  put 
into  the  coach  and  carried  back  by  the  four  horses  to  Buch- 
dorf. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  83 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Nine  years  had  passed  since  Kurt's  death.  Otto  had  re- 
fused to  accept  either  Grasort  or  the  guardianship  of  Beatrice, 
although  both  had  been  bequeathed  to  him  by  Kurt,  whose 
final  testament,  however,  was  to  be  first  opened  and  read  upon 
Beatrice's  eighteenth  birthday, — an  occasion  to  which  Theresa 
looked  forward  with  much  anxiety.  The  relations  with  Otto 
remained  the  same ;  incredible  as  it  may  appear,  they  had  not 
once  met  during  this  long  term  of  years.  In  fact,  the  relative 
situation  of  the  two  estates  made  it  quite  easy  for  the  owner 
of  each  to  avoid  the  other,  for  although  not  far  removed  from 
Buchdorf  in  a  direct  line,  Ermsdal  could  only  be  reached,  on 
account  of  the  moor,  by  a  circuitous  route  through  Harsbye, 
Grasort,  and  Wingen.  In  addition  to  this  the  baroness  had 
at  various  times  spent  many  years  in  foreign  countries,  while 
Otto  never  left  his  home  except  for  a  visit  to  the  capital. 

In  the  new  dwelling  which  he  had  built  for  himself,  and 
which  had  little  to  distinguish  it  from  the  abodes  of  the 
peasants  around  it,  he  led  as  lonely  and  misanthropic  an  ex- 
istence as  in  the  ruined  castle  of  old.  His  increasing  wealth 
brought  no  change  in  his  habits  of  life.  Aunt  Beruhardine, 
who  had  been  living  beneath  his  roof  for  some  years,  ordered 
his  small  household  with  great  frugality  and  economy. 

Frau  von  Arning  had  spent  the  previous  winter  in  Rome. 
During  the  early  summer  she  had  been  travelling  in  Switzer- 
land, and  she  would  have  returned  thence  to  Italy,  but  that 
.slie  cnaM  not  withstand  Beatrice's  longing  desire  to  see  her 
liome  again. 

Theresa  dreaded  a   German   winter;  she  was  excessively 


84  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

fond  of  art,  of  society,  anrl  of  pleasure,  and  could  not  think 
without  a  shudder  of  the  wind  and  snow  that  made  her 
Northern  home  at  times  so  bleak  and  bare.  She  could  not 
conceive  how  a  young  girl  could  long  for  so  unfriendly  a  spot, 
and  had  no  comprehension  of  the  feeling  of  reverential  de- 
votion which  attracted  her  child  to  the  soil  where  her  ancestors 
had  resided  for  many  generations.  Theresa,  however,  was  too 
affectionate  a  mother  to  disregard  her  daughter's  desire,  and 
thus  with  a  heavy  heart  she  resolved  upon  returning  to 
Buchdorf. 

She  had  secured  a  pleasant  companion  for  the  journey  in 
Emil  von  Lindau,  the  son  of  one  of  her  early  friends.  Frau 
von  Arning  had  met  him  in  Switzerland,  whither  he  had  gone, 
it  was  said,  for  the  sake  of  his  health,  since  his  mamma  had 
one  day  discovered  that  her  only  son  looked  pale  and  languid. 
His  father,  who  occupied  an  important  post  under  govern- 
ment, procured  him  a  several  months'  leave  of  absence,  and 
Emil  with  great  satisfaction  carried  his  real  or  fancied  ill 
health  and  his  twenty-one  years  to  Switzerland. 

He  was  really  a  good  young  fellow,  too  young  in  many  re- 
spects to  be  left  entirely  his  own  master,  still  rather  too  much 
tied  to  his  mother's  apron-string  to  be  extremely  interesting; 
but  so  well-bred,  with  so  much  conventional  polish,  that  the 
baroness,  who  perhaps  overvalued  these  qualities,  became  really 
fond  of  him,  especially  since  her  decided,  rather  imperious 
nature  gladly  gave  the  law  to  those  about  her.  Beatrice, 
too,  was  very  well  pleased  with  their  new  acquaintance,  and 
therefore  the  baroness  invited  the  young  man  to  spend  what 
remained  of  his  leave  of  absence  at  Buchdorf,  an  invitation 
which  Emil  accepted  with  all  the  more  eagerness  fi-om  the  fact 
that  his  finances  were  just  at  present  at  a  low  ebb ;  also  he 
was,  as  indeed  was  but  natural,  desperately  enamoured  of  the 
young  baroness.  Theresa  marked  this  with  a  favourable  eye. 
She  was  not  avaricious,  so  f^mil's  'ack  of  fortune  was  no  dis- 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  85 

advantage  in  her  eyes.  Beatrice  was  rich  enough.  What 
Frau  von  Arning  desired  in  the  husband  of  her  child  was  a 
true  honest  heart,  an  ancient  name,  and  good  breeding,  and 
Emil  von  Liudau  appeared  to  unite  in  his  person  all  these 
requirements.  His  youth,  too,  was  in  his  favour,  since  she 
might  easily  mould  him  to  her  will. 

Late  on  a  lovely  August  afternoon,  the  coach  conveying 
the  travellers  from  the  railway-station  drove  along  the  shady 
Buchdorf  avenue  towards  the  vine-wreathed  terrace,  where  the 
steward,  dressed  with  exceeding  elegance,  a  crimson  rose  in 
his  button-hole,  stood  waiting  to  receive  them.  It  was  the 
same  Warne  who,  fifteen  years  before,  had  testified  so  un- 
favourably upon  Otto's  trial.  In  spite  of  his  forty  years  he 
would  have  been  thought  strikingly  handsome  by  all  who  rank 
beauty  of  feature  beyond  that  of  expression.  The  dark -blue 
eyes  that  habitually  sought  the  ground  beneath  their  fringe  of 
black  lashes,  the  thick  fair  hair  above  the  white  if  not  broad 
forehead,  the  whole  type  of  feature,  certainly  attracted  although 
they  did  not  rivet  admiration.  Herr  von  Tannen,  nevertheless, 
an  old  friend  and  youthful  playmate  of  the  deceased  baron's, 
always  shook  his  head  gravely  at  mention  of  Heinrich  Warne's 
beauty.  Tannen  was  no  friend  of  the  steward's,  and  had  often 
cautioned  Theresa  against  him  and  his  negligent  administration 
of  her  afiairs ;  but  Frau  von  Arning  was  of  so  independent  a 
character  that  she  never  mistrusted  her  own  judgment,  even  in 
matters  of  which  she  necessarily  knew  but  little  ;  in  addition 
to  which,  Tannen's  opinion  bore  but  small  weight  with  her, 
since  he  had  always  been  a  warm  friend  and  advocate  of 
young  Arning,  to  whose  father  he  had  been  much  attached. 
She  reposed  a  blind  confidence  in  her  steward's  honesty  and 
ability.  Warne  gradually  became  her  councillor,  her  minister 
of  finance,  her  factotum  in  short,  and  as  constancy  was  one 
of  her  leading  traits,  nothing  less  than  proofs  clear  as  daylight 
of  his  uutrustworthiuess  could  have  robbed  him  of  her  favour 


86  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

Besides  all  this,  Heinrich  Warne  was  personally  much  to 
the  baroness's  taste:  he  was  very  punctual,  always  dressed 
with  great  elegance,  never  appeared  in  her  drawing-room 
with  muddy  boots,  always  had  plenty  of  time  when  she  needed 
him,  or  wished  him  to  drive  with  her,  and  plenty  of  money 
if  she  required  it,  never  troubling  her  with  accounts,  deeds, 
purchases,  or  sales.  Not  that  Theresa  could  ever  have  taken 
a  very  warm  personal  interest  in  the  man ;  but  his  repose 
of  manner,  his  courtesy,  his  silent  resolute  demeanour, 
pleased  her  because  they  added  to  the  comfort  of  her  house- 
hold. 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  the  baroness  descended  with  the 
queenly  bearing  that  characterized  her  every  movement.  Ex- 
cept for  two  slight  wrinkles  that  showed  upon  her  white  fore- 
head, Theresa  had  scarcely  altered  in  the  last  ten  years,  and  her 
beauty  was  enchanting  as  she  greeted  the  steward  with  kindly 
grace,  in  which  there  was,  it  is  true,  an  admixture  of  con- 
descension. But  it  was  not  upon  her  that  his  glance  rested ; 
it  turned  with  admiring  surprise  to  Beatrice,  who,  refusing 
Lindau's  aid,  sprang  from  the  carriage  and  with  frank 
cordiality  held  out  her  ungloved  hand  to  Warne. 

"  Here  we  are  at  home  once  more,  Herr  Warne,"  she  cried, 
gaily ;  "  now  there  will  be  all  sorts  of  confusion  and  disorder 
in  your  quiet  kingdom.  Yes,  yes,  you  may  well  be  dismayed. 
I,  for  one,  am  come  back  with  the  firm  determination  to  give 
you  no  end  of  trouble.  To-morrow,  to  begin  with,  you  must 
show  me  everything  that  has  undergone  even  the  slightest 
change  in  my  beloved  Buchdorf.  I  must  see  everything. 
How  are  Hans  and  Liese,  and  the  new  colts  ?  Is  old  Hector 
alive  still?" 

"  But,  my  child,"  Theresa  smilingly  interposed,  "  Herr 
Warne  cannot  answer  three  questions  at  a  tune.  We  must 
first  recover  from  the  fatigue  of  our  journey,  and  to-morrow 
we  will  take  every  thing  in  due  order.     Herr  Warue,  let  me 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  87 

introduce  my  young  friend  Ilerr  von  Lindau,  who  will  give  ua 
the  pleasure  of  his  society  for  a  few  weeks." 

The  two  gentlemen  bowed  rather  stiffly. 

All  had  meanwhile  been  traversing  the  wide  hall,  and  now 
entered  the  dining-room  where  was  spread  an  inviting  repast. 
Beatrice  did  not  deign  it  a  look,  but  running  to  the  glass  door 
leading  directly  into  the  park,  she  opened  it  wide.  "Oh,  my 
park,  my  darling  park,  how  I  have  longed  for  you  !"  she  cried, 
between  laughter  and  tears.  "  Forgive  me,  dearest  mamma,  but 
indeed  I  must  take  one  look  at  it  to-night." 

"  Dear  child,  are  you  not  tii-ed  then  ?"  the  baroness  asked, 
as  she  looked  after  her  daughter  hurrying  out  beneath  the 
trees.  The  girl's  exclamations  showed  such  a  fulness  of  de- 
light that  the  mother  felt  more  than  repaid  for  the  sacrifice 
she  had  made  in  returning  to  the  solitude  of  her  estate.  In- 
voluntarily, as  she  gazed  out  into  the  park,  the  past  rose  before 
her  mind.  How  often  had  her  weary,  despairing  eyes  rested 
upon  that  fresh  green  turf,  those  majestic  trees,  as  she  sat  by 
the  bedside  of  her  sick  darling !  Oh,  how  much  happier  she 
was  now  !  What  was  her  life  in  Italy  in  comparison  with  her 
child's  health  and  happiness  ?  Involuntarily  she  clasped  her 
hands  in  something  like  a  prayer  of  gratitude.  But  of  the 
man  to  whom,  under  God,  she  owed  her  child's  life,  she 
thought  not  at  all,  or  only  with  hatred  and  bitterness. 

Beatrice  meanwhile  hurried  along  the  well-kept  paths  with 
outstretched  arms.  She  could  have  kissed  the  trees  and 
shrubs  ;  did  not  every  step  recall  some  happy  scene  of  her 
childhood?  Ah,  she  had  reached  the  little  lake ;  in  its  smooth 
surface  the  tall  silver  poplars  were  mirrored,  and  the  weeping 
willows  dipped  their  drooping  boughs  into  the  placid  water. 
Through  the  trees  shone  the  crimson  light  dying  in  the  west 
and  ijow  and  then  tinging  with  a  rosy  hue  the  white  plumage 
of  the  swans  as  they  glided  from  shore  to  shore.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  lake,  where  formerly  a  mass  of  dark  shrub- 


<« 


88  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

bcry  luid  given  rather  a  gloomy  and  confined  aspect  to  the 
scene,  there  lay  before  the  girl's  admiring  eyes  a  stretch  of 
grassy  lawn  sprinkled  here  and  there  with  flower-beds  and 
extending  to  the  foot  of  the  little  hill  crowned  by  the  Chinese 
summer-house.  Beatrice  stood  still,  and  could  not  refrain 
from  an  exclamation  of  delight  and  surprise.  "  Oh,  how 
lovely  it  is  here !"  she  murmured,  half  unconsciously,  then 
turned  startled  as  a  deep  voice  close  beside  her  said,  "  I  am 
extremely  glad,  Fraulein  von  Arning,  that  the  improve- 
ments meet  your  approval.  To  confess  the  truth,  I  feared 
lest  the  change  which  I  have  made  here  might  displease 
you." 

"  Oh,  Herr  Warne,"  the  young  girl  exclaimed,  recovering 
herself,  "  how  you  frightened  me!" 

Warne  exhausted  himself  in  apologies ;  he  had  followed 
Friiulein  von  Arning  to  point  out  to  her  the  alterations  he 
had  ventured  to  make,  and  he  was  excessively  sorry 

"  Never  mind,"  Beatrice  interrupted  him  ;  "  after  all,  it  is 
my  fault  for  being  so  easily  startled.  But  you  wanted  to  tell 
me  about  this,  and  I  am  dying  with  curiosity.  Why  do 
you  hesitate,  and  look  at  me  as  if  you  were  afraid  I  was  not 
myself?     I  assure  you  I  am  the  real  Beatrice." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  Warne  said,  with  a  smile,  without 
however  turning  his  eyes  from  his  young  mistress  ;  "  but  yet 
you  are  not  precisely  the  same  young  lady  who  left  Buchdorf 
a  few  years  ago.  I  fear  that  my  information  which  was  des- 
tined for  the  child  Beatrice  will  possess  but  small  interest  for 
Fraulein  von  Arning." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  find  me  altered,"  the  young  baroness  said, 
gaily.  "  Mamma  says  so  too.  I  have  grown,  and  wear  a 
train,  very  long,  as  you  see,  and  very  uncomfortable,  as  I  can 
tell  you,  but  in  all  else,  believe  me,  I  am  the  same  old  Beatrice, 
who  longs  to  know,  to  begin  with,  how  my  dear  Ami  is." 

"  Your  deer  is  as  tame  as  ever,"  the  steward  replied     "  I 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  89 

have  fed  it  every  morning  myself,  and  in  a  few  days  it  will 
know  you  as  of  old." 

"  That  was  kind  of  you,  Ilerr  Warne,"  Beatrice  said,  cor- 
dially, "  and  I  thank  you." 

"  The  Frau  Baroness  sends  me,"  said  Emil  von  Lindau, 
who  made  his  appearance  at  this  moment  with  a  paper  in  his 
hand,  "  to  entreat  you  to  come  into  the  house,  as  she  is  afraid 
the  evening  air  may  give  you  cold,  Fr'dulein  von  Arning." 

"  We  are  coming,"  Beatrice  replied.  "  What  have  you  there, 
Herr  von  Lindau  ?  Have  you  had  so  sudden  an  access  of 
sketching  fever  that  you  are  going  on  this  first  evening  to 
caricature  our  poor  little  lake  ? — which  in  f\ct  deserves  to  be 
reproduced  by  a  genuine  artist,"  she  added,  in  a  graver  tone, 
her  eyes  drinking  in  the  beauty  before  her. 

"  I  only  paint  flowers  ;  I  have  never  attempted  landscape," 
Lindau  replied  with  a  rather  aggrieved  air.  "  Yes,  yes,  laugh 
as  you  will,  but  wait  until  I  have  finished  decorating  your  fan. 
I  assure  you  I  was  quite  famous  for  my  flowers  in  society  last 
■winter,  and  I  should  have  spent  every  day  and  all  day  long  in 
painting  roses  and  forget-me-nots  on  the  fans  of  my  partners 
in  the  cotillion  if  my  mother  had  not  begged  me  to  employ 
my  time  more  usefully.  But  this  paper  is,  as  you  see,  a  very 
innocent  telegraphic  dispatch  to  inform  my  mother  of  our  safe 
arrival,  and  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Herr  Warne, 

if  you  will  see  that  it  is  sent  immediately  to  M ,  for  I 

forgot  to  leave  it  as  we  passed  through." 

Warne,  who  had  been  watching  the  two  young  people  from 
beneath  his  drooping  lids  with  a  strange  expression,  off'ercd  to 

ride  himself  to  M with  the  dispatch,  and  Lindau  would 

have  accepted  the  service  as  a  matter  of  course,  had  not  Bea- 
trice decidedly  objected.     "  By  no  means,  Herr  Warne.     Any 

groom  can  take  it  to  M .     You  would  not  leave  us  alone 

on  the  very  first  evening  of  our  arrival  ?  Herr  von  Lindau," 
she  said,  in  an  undertone,  as  the  steward  withdrew,  "  Warne 

8* 


90  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

Las  been  more  than  twenty  years  in  our  family,  and  Is  con- 
sidered quite  as  a  member  of  it.  Do  not  take  advantage  of 
his  modesty  to  accept  services  from  him  which  it  really  is  not 
his  duty  to  perform." 

A  few  hours  afterwards  profound  silence  reigned  throughout 
the  house.  The  whole  family  had  withdrawn  to  their  various 
apartments.  Tlie  baroness,  really  fatigued  by  her  journey,  was 
asleep.  Beatrice  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair  before  the  open 
window  of  her  pretty  room,  a  room  chosen  in  an  upper  story 
for  the  sake  of  the  charming  prospect,  gazing  out  in  a  state 
of  dreamy  beatitude  over  the  moonlit  park.  Emil,  who  was 
wanting  in  any  genuine  love  of  nature,  had  closed  his  window 
and  drawn  the  curtain,  and  was  sitting  at  a  table  covered  with 
sheets  of  paper  of  all  sizes,  each  bearing  an  almost  undecipher- 
able and  therefore  entirely  irreproachable  monogram.  The 
young  man's  costly  portfolio  lay  open  before  him,  and,  with  a 
pen  the  elaborate  carving  on  the  handle  of  which  must  have 
made  any  comfort  in  writing  impossible,  was  inditing  a  letter 
to  his  mamma. 

Warne  also  had  closed  his  shutters,  not  so  much  to  exclude 
the  moonlight  as  because  he  liked  to  be  secure  in  his  own 
room  from  prying  glances.  The  lamp  was  burning  upon  a 
clumsy  table  covered  with  bills,  books,  and  unopened  letters, 
all  which  the  steward  did  not  appear  to  see,  although  his  eyes 
were  now  as  wide  open  as  the  eyes  of  men  usually  are.  A 
cigar  in  his  mouth,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  he  noise- 
lessly paced  his  room  to  and  fro  with  a  step  as  regular  as  the 
ticking  of  the  old  cuckoo-clock  that  hung  on  the  wall  above 
the  writing-table.  This  clock  had  once  hung  in  Otto's  sanctum, 
and  only  after  the  old  baron's  death,  when  the  baroness  had  re- 
arranged and  refurnished  the  entire  house,  had  it  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  steward's  room.  Now,  Warne  was  a  man  of  nerve 
and  resolution,  not  at  all  prone  to  superstition  ;  he  had  not  ojv 
posed  the  hanging  of  the  clock  in  its  present  place,  and  yet  it 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  91 

would  be  false  to  maiutain  that  lie  had  any  special  liking  for 
this  memento  of  young  Von  Arning,  Every  time  the  monot- 
onous cuckoo  struck  the  hour  it  reminded  him  of  the  morning 
when,  as  he  listened  to  the  cry  of  this  bird  in  the  forest,  he 
had  resolved  upon  a  lie  which  forever  turned  his  path  in  life 
aside  from  that  of  truth  and  honour.  The  steward's  con- 
science possessed,  it  is  true,  great  elasticity,  and  any  other 
crime  save  that  of  perjury  would  scarcely  have  troubled  his 
lightest  slumber,  but  the  solemn  penalty  of  expulsion  from 
eternal  mercy  in  this  world  and  the  next  attached  to  this 
crime  would  continually,  though  vaguely,  occur  to  him  among 
the  mysterious  memories  of  childhood  that  often  haunt  a 
man's  after-years.  He  never  had  repented  the  act,  but  he 
avoided  in  every  way  possible  any  recurrence  to  it  in  his 
mind. 

"  A  prudent  woman  is  the  baroness,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
interrupting  his  gloomy  reverie.  "  Her  talent  is  undeniable. 
A  very  pretty  pattern  of  a  son-in»law,  this,  which  she  has  de- 
vised ;  not  quite  formed  yet,  to  be  sure,  but  the  right  stuff, — 
can  be  controlled,  revised,  and  corrected  !  Hm !  But  the  little 
Friiulein  has  a  will  of  her  own,  and  my  insignificance  ciuinot 
be  left  out  of  the  game." 

He  thoughtfully  blew  forth  a  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke.  "  I 
suppose  the  betrothal  is  to  take  place  before  the  eleventh  of 
November,"  he  continued.  "  If  I  only  knew  what  the  old 
fool's  idea  was  with  his  two  wills!  No  one  can  tell  what 
atonement  the  old  man  may  have  taken  it  into  his  foolish  head 
to  make  to  that  fellow  at  Ermsdal ;  and  the  baroness  evidently 
feels  a  little  shaky,  and  bethinks  her  that  no  commands  either 
of  the  dead  or  living  can  interfere  with  a  husband's  authority. 
Bravo,  my  lady !  Well  schemed  !  But,  my  much  revered 
Frau  von  Arning,  I  do  not  consent.  It  is  too  speedy  a  con- 
clusion of  affairs.  I  should  lose  the  results  of  the  labour  of 
years  ;  and  then,  by  heaven  !  I  grudge  the  girl  to  that  brainless 


92  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

fop.  Of  course  she  must  and  will  marry  some  time,  and  my 
best  days  are  past — stay  I" 

He  struck  his  forehead  with  his  open  palm,  took  one  or  two 
hasty  turns  through  the  apartment,  and  then  paused  before 
the  large  mirror  that  hung  on  t\te  wall,  its  broad,  richly-carved 
gilt  frame  tarnished  with  age  and  tobacco-smoke.  The  glass, 
liovrever,  was  as  clear  as  ever,  and  reflected  with  great  distinct- 
ness the  steward's  figure  standing  in  the  full  light  of  the  lamp 
in  evening  dress,  with  the  half-withered  rose  in  his  button-hole. 
Heinrich  Warne,  careful  though  he  was  as  to  his  personal 
adornment,  was  no  fop ;  the  steady  and  minute  inspection 
which  he  now  accorded  to  his  face  and  figure  was  made  with 
strict  impartiality,  and  he  could  not  but  perceive  that  as  yet 
his  years  had  left  no  trace  upon  his  brow,  and  that  he  might 
safely  enter  the  lists  with  a  much  younger  man.  With  a  sigh 
of  relief  he  turned  away,  drew  aside  the  curtain,  and  opened 
his  window.  Between  the  trees  he  could  catch  the  shimmer 
of  moonlight  on  the  little  lake, — a  picture  of  peaceful  repose. 

"  Yes,  Buchdorf  is  beautiful !"  Warne  murmured,  with  a 
slight  smile.  "  The  young  baroness  is  right  to  cling  to  it. 
I  share  her  preference,  and  will  do  my  best  to  remain  here 
always." 

"  Cuckoo !"  came  at  this  moment  from  Otto's  clock  upou 
the  wall.  Warne  turned  pale,  and  started  as  if  at  some  ghostly 
warning.  "  Curse  it  1"  he  muttered.  He  dropped  the  cmtain 
which  he  was  holding  aside,  and  mounting  a  chair  stopped  the 
small  piece  of  machinery  that  aroused  such  disagreeable  mem- 
ories in  his  mind. 


A    FAMILY  FEUD  93 


CHAPTER    IX. 


The  afternoon  was  warm  upon  which,  several  days  after  her 
return  home,  the  baroness  was  sitting  on  the  shady  terrace  be- 
fore an  inviting  tea-table,  looking  across  the  book  she  held  in 
her  hand  towards  where  Beatrice  was  playing  croquet  on  the 
lawn  with  Herr  von  Lindau,  and  whence  peals  of  girlish 
laughter  came  floating  in  delicious  music  to  her  mother's  ears. 
Opposite  Theresa,  at  the  other  end  of  the  terrace,  sat  Warne, 
silent,  quiet,  his  eyes  cast  down  as  usual,  thoughtfully  smoking 
his  cigar. 

"  Will  you  have  another  cup  of  coffee,  Herr  Warne  ?"  the 
baroness  called  to  him. 

"  I  thank  you,  no,  madame."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  I  am 
really  sorry  to  trouble  you  with  business  so  soon  after  your 
return,  but  I  have  some  deeds  of  sale  and  other  papers  that 
require  your  signature.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  trouble 
you  frequently  in  this  way  for  a  while." 

"  Can  I  not  give  you  some  more  of  those  signed  formulas?" 
Theresa  asked.  "  The  whole  thing  is  a  mere  form ;  the  man- 
agement of  the  property  is  entirely  in  your  hands,  and  of 
course  I  will  sign  whatever  you  think  proper." 

"  The  method  you  propose  is  perfectly  feasible,  madame, 
provided  indeed  that  you  do  not  wish  first  to  read " 

"  What  I  cannot  understand,"  Theresa  completed  his  sen- 
tence. "  No,  Herr  Warne,  I  would  have  every  one  fulfil  the 
duty  given  him  to  do ;  but  for  a  person  entirely  ignorant  of 
business  to  undertake  to  examine  and  test  what  has  been  pre- 
pared by  another  of  thorough  business  knowledge  and  capa- 
city, seems  to  me  both  folly  and  waste  of  time.  So  bring  me 
this  evening  as  many  blank  formulas  as  you  want,  and  I  will 


94  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

return   them  to  you  with  my  signature  to-morrow  morning." 
Warne  bowed, 

"  What  do  you  think,  mamma!"  Beatrice  exclaimed  at  this 
moment,  running  up  the  broad  steps  of  the  terrace,  her  croquet 
mallet  in  her  hand  ;  "  Herr  von  Lindau  is  bored  here  !  No, 
don't  deny  it,"  she  continued,  turning  to  the  young  officer,  who 
followed  her  slowly  and  looking  very  much  heated,  "  1  plainly 
saw  your  face  grow  longer  and  longer  in  spite  of  my  efforts  to 
make  the  game  interesting.  For  a  punishment  you  must  now 
take  a  ride." 

"  It  would  be  a  reward  if  you  would  let  me  accompany 
you,"  Lindau  rejoined,  with  an  admiring  gaze  at  his  com- 
panion, who  took  off  her  broad  straw  hat  and  pushed  back  the 
short  curls  that  would  lie  in  rings  about  her  brow  and  temples, 
while  the  rest  of  her  chestnut  hair  was  simply  coiled  in  braids 
about  her  graceful  head. 

"  I  cannot  ride  Ali,  any  more,"  she  said,  in  reply  to  Lin- 
dau's  request.  "  He  has  grown  so  fat  and  lazy.  I  must  have 
a  new  riding-horse." 

"  Not  a  very  modest  wish,  my  darling,"  said  the  baroness. 
"  I  hardly  know  whether  it  can  be  gratified  this  year.  We 
have  had  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  money.  W^hat  do  you  say, 
Herr  Warne  ?  Did  you  not  tell  me  the  harvest  had  been  very 
poor?" 

"  I  did ;  but  there  is  really  no  reason  why  any  desire  of 
Fraulein  von  Arning's  should  not  be  complied  with,  especially 
if  Ali,  who  is  not  so  worthless  as  she  seems  to  suppose,  is 
sold " 

"  That  shall  not  be,"  the  young  girl  interrupted  him,  de- 
cidedly. "  I  would  rather  have  no  ridiug-horse.  What!  sell 
a  creature  who  has  given  me  so  many  delightful  hours  1  To 
some  hackman  perhaps  in  town,  where  he  will  be  driven 
to  death !  No,  no,  Ali  shall  be  taken  care  of  in  his  old 
age." 


A   FAMILY-  FEUD.  95 

"  It  would  be  cruel  to  deny  anything  to  such  an  angel  of 
pity  as  Friiulein  von  Arning,"  the  steward  rejoined. 

The  baroness  thought  her  daughter's  view  of  the  matter 
unpractical,  but  was  so  charmed  with  the  tender  heart  that 
dictated  the  words  that  she  did  not  gainsay  them.  Hcrr 
von  Lindau,  however,  said,  drily,  "  If  these  views  are  to 
rule  your  conduct,  Friiulein  von  Arning,  Buchdorf  will  in 
a  few  years  be  a  perfect  hospital  for  sick  horses  and  cows. 
It  is  a  fine  thing  to  have  the  means  of  gi-atifying  such 
tastes." 

"How  disagreeable  you  are!"  Beatrice  pouted;  "you  say 
that  because  you  have  to  ride  alone " 

"  I  will  go  order  your  horse  to  be  saddled,  Herr  Baron," 
said  the  steward,  rising,  and  leaving  the  terrace. 

"  Thanks,"  Lindau  called  after  him.  "  There  is  no  hope 
then  of  your  accompanying  me,  Friiulein  von  Arning  ?" 

"  I  will  come  and  see  you  mount." 

"  That  is  small  consolation,"  the  young  officer  remarked,  as 
he  followed  Warne. 

"  Do  you  know,  mamma,"  said  Beatrice,  thoughtfully,  when 
he  had  gone,  "  that  I  should  Kke  our  steward  much  better  if 
he  were  not  so  very  officious?  Why  should  he  trouble  him- 
self about  the  horse  of  a  man  who  always  treats  him  with 
arrogance  ?" 

Many  a  plan  Ls' brought  to  naught  by  the  pride  and  insolence 
of  its  author;  the  rock  upon  which  Warne's  schemes  were 
shattered  was  servility. 

As  soon  as  Emil  had  vanished  down  the  avenue,  Beatrice 
went  to  her  room  to  get  gloves  and  parasol ;  then,  tying  on  her 
hat,  she  left  the  house,  sending  a  servant  to  acquaint  Frau 
von  Arning  with  her  departure. 

She  longed  for  one  of  the  lonely  walks  in  which  from  her 
childhood  she  had  so  delighted.  She  wished  to  revisit  Ee- 
pach,  a  neighbouring  estate,  fiimous  for  its  beautiful  forests, 


96  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

belonging  to  an  elderly  man  who  was  always  absent  and  had 
been  long  trying  in  vain  to  dispose  of  it. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  found  herself  in  the  cool, 
shady  wood-paths.  Beatrice  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  pleasure, 
and  gathering  up  her  light  summer-dress  walked  lightly  over 
the  green  carpet  of  moss,  where  thesunlight  lay  here  and  there 
in  golden  flecks.  It  was  her  favourite  walk ;  here  she  had 
never  encountered  a  human  being,  and  the  birds  seemed  to 
sing  more  gaily  aud  clearly  in  this  solitude  than  in  the  more 
frequented  parts  of  the  woodland.  She  turned  aside  into  the 
thicket,  passing  lightly  through  its  depths,  bending  back  the 
boughs  that  barred  her  way,  until  she  saw  before  her  a  small, 
turfy  opening,  in  the  centre  of  which  grew  a  mighty  oak-tree, 
one  of  those  giants  of  the  forest  which  are  becoming  rarer 
every  day.  The  country-people  called  it  the  king  oak,  and  it 
did,  in  fact,  look  as  if  the  smaller  trees  and  shrubs  had  reve- 
rentially retired  from  about  their  monarch,  forming  the  nearly 
circular  opening  which  Beatrice  had  thus  reached.  Opposite 
her,  on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  she  saw  a  deer ;  she  would  have 
known  him  among  a  thousand.  "  Ami !"  she  called,  surprised 
and  pleased. 

The  animal  started  at  the  sound  of  the  well-known  voice, 
and  turned  his  slender  head  in  the  direction  whence  the  call 
proceeded.  At  that  moment  a  shot  was  heard ;  Ami  made 
one  or  two  bounds  to  reach  his  mistress,  and  then  sank  help- 
less on  the  ground,  while  Beatrice,  filled  with  indignation  and 
sorrow,  hastened  to  the  poor  creature's  side. 

"  How  dare  you  shoot  on  Herr  von  Stade's  ground  ?"  she 
said,  anger  flashing  from  her  eyes,  to  the  unknown  huntsman, 
who  now  made  his  appearance  from  the  forest,  his  gun  in  one 
hand  and  holding  back  his  dog  with  the  other.  "  I  will  see 
to  it  that  you  do  not  go  unpunished." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Frliulein  von  ^rning.  I  am  no 
poacher;  I  am  shooting  upon  my  own  domain,"  the  stranger 


A   FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  97 

replied,  advancing  with  a  slight  salutation.  "  Repach  has  just 
been  sold." 

"  Sold  ?"  Beatrice  repeated,  incredulously. 

"  The  intelligence  seems  to  surprise  you,"  the  huntsman 
remarked.  "  It  chances  that  I  can  give  you  proof  of  my  asser- 
tion. Lie  down,  Juno !"  The  last  words  quieted  his  dog, 
who  seemed  desirous  of  rushing  upon  the  wounded  deer.  The 
etranger  opened  his  wallet  and  took  thence  a  paper  which  he 
handed,  with  a  slight  smile,  to  his  angry  opponent.  Beatrice 
took  it  impatiently  and  read  upon  the  outside,  "  Deed  of  sale 
concluded  August  15,  18 — ,  between  Herr  George  von  Stade 
and  Otto,  Freiherr  von  Arning " 

She  read  no  further,  but  raised  her  eyes  in  troubled  inquiry 
to  the  supposed  poacher,  and  a  sudden  light  dawned  upon  her 
soul.  Yes,  it  was  Otto  von  Arning.  How  could  she  have 
been  so  blind  as  not  to  recognize  him  at  the  first  glance? 

For  nine  years  she  had  been  taught  sedulously  to  avoid  all 
encounter  with  her  dreaded  cousin  Otto,  only  to  come  upon 
him  now  in  so  extremely  undesirable  a  manner.  She  grew 
very  pale,  and,  not  daring  to  look  up,  could  not  see  the  ex- 
pression of  bitter  impatience  that  her  evident  terror  called  forth 
on  the  baron's  countenance.  He  waited  for  a  few  moments ; 
then,  seeing  that  the  young  girl  still  maintained  an  embar- 
rassed silence,  he  said,  calmly,  "  Are  you  satisfied,  Friiulcin 
von  Arning?" 

Beatrice  recovered  herself,  and  handed  him  the  paper. 

"  Yes,  I  see  that  you  are  in  the  right,"  she  said,  sadly, 
"  and  that  all  that  I  can  do  is  to  apologize  for  ray  violence,  and 
-  -try  to  forget  my  poor  Ami,"  she  added,  her  eyes  filling  with 
tears  as  she  looked  at  the  deer,  whose  large  eyes,  as  he  gazed 
at  his  mistress,  were  filled  with  mute  reproach  and  entreaty. 

"  Is  it  a  tame  deer?"  Otto  asked,  surprised.  "  Oh,  this  I 
never  meant !     I  am  Accessively  sorry." 

Beatrice  kneeled  on  the  grass  beside  her  favourite  and 
E  9 


98  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

stroked  its  head.     "  Ouly  this  iiioruing  it  ate  from  my  haud, 

and  it  was  running  to  meet  me  when "    She  sprang  up. 

"  Kill  it,  Herr  vou  Arning,"  she  said,  with  tear-dimmed  eyes. 
"  At  least  put  it  out  of  its  pain." 

Otto  approached  the  animal,  the  poor  thing  making  a  vain 
attempt  to  rise  as  he  did  .so. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  have  wounded  it  mortally,"  he  said,  "  Let 
me  see."  And,  leaning  his  gun  against  the  trunk  of  the  oak- 
tree,  he  began  carefully  to  examine  the  wound. 

Beatrice  had  recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  her  surprise. 
She  ventured  to  observe  this  man  whom  she  had  heard  ^o 
maligned  more  attentively,  that  she  might  compare  the  reality 
with  the  image  which  her  memory  still  retained.  Otto  had 
greatly  altered  in  the  last  nine  years ;  his  features  wore  more 
decided ;  his  eyes  had  become  larger  and  darker ;  but  what 
struck  his  young  cousin  more  forcibly  than  all  else  was  the 
expression  of  repressed  but  settled  melancholy  that  charac- 
terized his  face,  and  filled  her,  she  could  hardly  tell  why,  with 
the  deepest  sympathy. 

Meanwhile,  Otto  finished  his  examination,  and  turning  to 
her  with  a  faint  smile,  "  Reassure  yourself,  Fraulein  voa 
Arning,"  he  said;  "the  wound  is  not  serious ;  your  favourite 
will  certainly  live." 

"  Really  ?  Oh,  thanks ;  a  thousand  thanks  1"  Beatrice  cried, 
her  eyes  sparkling  with  joy.  "  Do  you  hear.  Ami  ?  we  shall 
have  many  a  ramble  together  !" 

Otto  proceeded  to  tear  his  handkerchief  into  bandages  with 
which  he  bound  up  the  wound,  while  Beati-ice  by  her  caresses 
induced  the  deer  to  lie  quiet.  When  Von  Arning  had  finished, 
he  arose  and  took  the  animal- in  his  arms. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  the  young  baroness  asked, 
looking  up  at  him  with  eyes  of  childish  wonder. 

"  Take  my  patient  to  the  nearest  peasant  hut.  It  must  not 
stay  here  in  the  forest." 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  99 

Beatrice  could  not  remember  any  dwelling  near  at  hand,  but 
she  nevertheless  followed  him.  She  was  a  brave  girl  at  heart, 
and  it  had  required  years  of  warning  and  admonition  from  her 
mother  and  governess  before  the  image  of  the  cousin  she  had 
so  loved  had  been  converted  into  the  bugbear  of  her  imagina- 
tion. Now  that  he  stood  beside  her,  she  smiled  at  her  fancied 
fears.  In  the  light  of  reality,  the  broad  sunshine,  her  com- 
panion's quiet  words  and  demeanour,  banished  every  foolish 
phantom  of  her  imagination. 

The  trees  grew  sparse,  the  borders  of  the  forest  were  soon 
reached,  and  the  pair  emerged  upon  a  strip  of  meadow-land 
bordering  the  moor.  Just  at  its  edge  there  was  a  stunted 
birch-tree  beside  a  low  hut  with  crumbling  mud  walls  and 
an  old  straw-thatched  roof.  The  baron  directed  his  steps 
towards  it.     Beatrice  involuntarily  hesitated  an  instant. 

"  Brown  Elsie's  hut,"  she  said,  timidly,  not  venturing  di- 
rectly to  oppose  the  baron.  "  Do  you  think  Ami  will  be  well 
taken  care  of  there?" 

"  Why  not  there  as  well  as  in  any  other  peasant  hut?"  Otto 
asked  in  return. 

"  I  do  not  know,  but  I  think  it  would  be  better  not  to  en- 
trust him  to  Brown  Elsie.  I  remember  her  in  my  childhood. 
She  used  to  tie  threads  to  the  poor  beetles,  and  always  abused 
us  or  threw  stones  at  us.  No  one  liked  her,  and  we  used 
to  chase  her  whenever  we  saw  her, — vainly,  of  course.  She 
could  run  much  faster  than  any  of  us.  I  have  not  seen  her 
for  years,  nor  her  grandmother,  the  old  fortune-teller ;  but  no 
one  speaks  well  of  them  ;  they  are  dreaded  by  the  people  about 
here." 

"  Outcasts !"  From  Otto's  lips  the  word  came  with  so 
strange  an  emphasis  that  Beatrice  looked  up  in  surprise,  but 
the  baron,  apparently,  did  not  observe  her  look.  With  a 
ghrug,  ho  continued,  "  And  yet  Elsbeth  is  the  prettiest  girl 
in  all  Ermsdal,  and  might  have  been  just  like  other  people 


100  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

if  slic  hud  been  treated  with  a  little  affection  and  a  little 
patience." 

"  You  know  her?''  Beatrice  quickly  asked. 

"  I  know  every  one  upon  my  land." 

They  had  reached  the  hut,  and  Otto  pushed  open  the  huge 
door  that  occupied  almost  the  entire  wall.  Small  and  poor  ».■» 
the  structure  was,  it  was  precisely  similar  in  arrangement  to 
all  other  peasant  abodes  in  that  part  of  the  country.  You 
entered  by  the  "  Fleet,"  or  outer  passage,  where,  instead  of 
the  cattle-stalls  on  either  side  to  be  found  in  the  house  of 
every  well-to-do  peasant,  lay  heaped  willow-withes,  potatoes, 
flax,  wood,  and  other  stores,  piled  together  in  picturesque  con- 
fusion, among  which  treasures  the  sole  live-stock,  a  lean  black 
goat,  wandered  about  at  will,  now  and  then  slily  nibbling  at  a 
cabbage-head.  The  interesting  part  of  the  house  lay  at  the 
other  end  of  this  passage.  Through  the  one  small  window  in 
the  western  wall  the  warm  afternoon  sun  streamed  in,  and  threw 
a  strange,  garish  light  upon  the  picture  that  greeted  the  eyes 
of  the  visitors  at  the  other  end  of  the  dark  entry.  On  the 
left  of  the  spacious  hearth,  where,  notwithstanding  the  heat 
of  the  weather,  a  glimmering  fire  slumbered,  stood  the  wide 
bed,  hung  and  covered  with  blue  checked  linen  ;  beside  it 
was  an  antique  chest  painted  in  gay  colours,  chiefly  red  and 
blue.  By  the  hearth  stood  a  spinning-wheel  and  a  chair,  in 
which  sat  crouched  together  a  very  old  woman,  appar'^ntly 
taking  an  afternoon  doze. 

Her  appearance  wa!fe  certainly  not  one  to  inspire  either  re- 
spect or  confidence,  although  for  the  moment  nothing  of  her 
yellow  face  could  be  seen  save  the  wrinkled  brow  and  the 
pointed  chin,  with  the  nose  just  showing  between  them. 
Around  her  head  was  wound  a  torn,  black  woollen  cloth,  from 
beneath  which  her  matted  white  hair  escaped  in  stiff  elf-locks. 
The  rest  of  her  dress  seemed  only  a  huddled  mass  of  coarse 
stuff  in  which  her  figure  was  enveloped.     A  clumsy  shoe  just 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  101 

showed  beneath  it,  and  upon  the  old  woman's  knees  lay 
stretched,  apparently  as  a  kind  of  animated  duvet,  a  huge 
black  cat. 

On  the  side  of  the  hearth  some  rude  shelves  sustained  a 
few  rusty  kettles  and  earthen  basins,  and  beneath  them  stood 
a  rough  table.  Near  the  window  there  was  a  wooden  bench, 
and  upon  the  window-scat  sat  a  girl  about  as  old  as  Beatrice, 
— Brown  Elsie.  The  name  had  not  been  bestowed  without 
cause ;  her  complexion  was  almost  that  of  a  mulatto,  and  be- 
trayed at  a  glance  the  fact  that  she  was  of  a  race  entirely  foreign 
to  that  of  the  flaxen-haired,  blue-eyed  German  children  among 
whom  she  had  grown  up.  Innate  antipathy  of  race  had  early 
fostered  the  enmity  between  them. 

The  shape  of  Elsbeth's  face  was  a  perfect  oval.  Her  features 
were  not  regular,  but  very  marked.  Her  greatest  beauty  un- 
questionably lay  in  her  deep  black  eyes,  which  were  capable  of 
expressing  every  emotion  of  the  human  heart,  from  the  wildest 
passion  to  the  most  devoted  tenderness,  although  they  usually 
looked  out  upon  the  world  in  sullen  indifference.  There  was 
a  classic  beauty  also  in  the  little  brown  foot  which  rested  bare 
upon  the  wooden  bench  beneath  the  window-seat.  The  girl's 
dress  consisted  of  a  gray,  well-patched  petticoat,  and  a  sort  of 
gray  shift,  which,  cut  close  about  the  neck,  yet  left  the  slender, 
graceful  arms  bare.  This  costume  evidently,  however,  did 
not  satisfy  Elsbeth's  sense  of  the  beautiful,  for  the  strange 
creature  wore  wrapped  about  her  shoulders,  after  a  most  fan- 
tastic fashion,  an  old  scarlet  shawl.  Upon  her  knees  she  held 
a  fragment  of  looking-glass,  in  which  she  was  complacently  ob- 
Berviug  her  reflection  while  endeavouring  to  entwine  a  spray 
of  ivy  in  the  coarse,  straight  black  hair  that  lay  loose  upon  her 
shoulders.  She  did  not  for  an  inst  nt  desist  from  her  occu- 
pation upon  the  entrance  of  the  visitors,  to  whom  she  scarcely 
accorded  a  fleeting  glance  of  observation. 

The  baron  gently  laid  down  his  burden  and  approached  tlio 
9* 


102  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

old  woman.  "  Mother  Stina,"  he  said,  "  we  bring  you  here  a 
deer,  a  deer  belonging  to  my  young  companion.  It  is  wounded, 
and  needs  nursing :  will  you  do  all  you  can  to  restore  it  to 
strength  ?" 

The  old  woman  did  not  reply  ;  she  opened  a  pair  of  small 
gray  eyes,  in  which  was  plainly  to  be  seen  the  reason  why  the 
country-people  believed  her  endowed  with  the  curse  of  the  evil 
eye.  With  a  look  of  surprise  she  gazed  from  one  to  the  other 
of  her  visitors,  and  then,  as  if  she  had  discovered  something 
excessively  comical,  she  burst  into  low,  chuckling  laughter. 

"  Do  you  not  know  who  we  are  ?"  Otto  asked,  sternly. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  !"  the  woman  laughed.  "  How  can  I  help 
it?  You  are  the  wild  young  baron,  and  she  there  is  the  little 
heiress " 

"  Enough,  enough  !"  Otto  interrupted  her. 

Her  chuckling  had  ended  in  a  fit  of  coughing.  When  she 
recovered  her  breath,  she  continued,  in  the  same  jeering  tone, 
"  Well,  well ;  then  you  are  the  weasel  and  she  is  the  dove. 
Shall  I  tell  the  pretty  white  dove  her  fortune  ?"  she  suddenly 
asked  Beatrice. 

On  an  ordinary  occasion  the  young  baroness  would  have 
had  the  interest  in  a  fortune-teller  or  would-be  soothsayer 
natural  to  girls  of  her  age  ;  but  Mother  Stina  fairly  terrified 
her. 

"  I  am  not  curious  to  know  about  the  future,  my  good 
woman,"  she  replied ;  "  but  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you  if  you 
will  take  care  of  my  poor  deer." 

"  You  would  not  hear  a  very  fine  tale,"  the  crone  grinned. 
"  For  look  ye,  child,  in  the  end  the  weasel  always  sucks  the  dove's 
life-blood,  and  the  cat  kills  the  mouse  when  it  has  played  with 
it  long  enough ;  and  so  it  will  be  with  you,  white  dove,  struggle 
and  flutter  as  you  may.  The  weasel  once  had  you  by  the 
wing,  and  some  fine  morning  he  will  clutch  your  little  throat." 

Her  manner  of  saying  these  words,  the  whole  scene,  had  such 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  103 

a  terrifying  effect  upon  Beatrice  that  involuntarily  she  recoiled. 
The  look  of  mute  appeal  which  she  turned  upon  Otto  almost 
robbed  him  of  self-control.  He  strode  up  to  the  old  woman. 
"Silence!"  he  thundered,  raising  his  hand,  "or " 

Beatrice  gazed  at  him  in  terror.  She  could  not  see  his 
face,  but  the  tone  of  his  voice  was  one  of  such  intense 
and  pa  sionate  agitation  that  she  really  feared  for  the  old 
woman.  Before  she  knew  what  she  was  doing  she  stood 
beside  him,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  "  Herr  von 
Arning,  spare  her.  The  woman  is  insane,"  she  said,  almost 
reproachfully. 

Otto  had  already  retreated,  stern  and  silent,  perhaps  ashamed 
of  his  violence.  Beatrice  continued,  addressing  old  Stina :  "  I 
pray  you,  good  woman,  promise  me  that  you  will  take  good 
care  of  Ami,  and  we  will  disturb  you  no  longer.  Be  sure  you 
shall  be  well  rewarded  for  your  pains,"  she  added,  seeing  that 
Mother  Stina  made  no  reply. 

But  this  promise  also  produced  no  effect ;  the  old  woman 
wagged  her  turbaned  head,  and  went  on  muttering  about  doves 
and  weasels.  Troubled  and  uncertain  what  she  had  best  do 
or  say,  the  young  girl's  gaze  sought  Von  Arning,  from  whom 
she  feared  another  outburst.  But  Otto  was  standing  near  the 
door,  with  folded  arms,  and  with  looks  bent  gloomily  upon  the 
ground.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  There  was  no  other  cottage 
nearer  than  a  mile  where  she  could  seek  shelter  for  her  poor 
wounded  pet,  and  she  was  turning  away  discouraged,  when 
Klsbeth,  who  had  been  listening  with  an  air  of  entire  indiffer- 
ence to  what  passed,  suddenly  slipped  down  from  her  window- 
seat,  and  confronting  the  young  baroness,  said,  curtly,  "  I  will 
take  care  of  the  deer." 

"  That  is  kind  and  good  of  you,  Elsie !"  Beatrice  said, 
much  relieved,  holding  out  her  hand  to  the  girl  in  token  of 
gratitude. 

But,  without  choosing  to  notice  the  extended  hand,  P^lsbeth 


10-i  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

turned  away  and  stooped  over  the  deer,  whilst  Beatrice 
dropped  her  hand  with  a  blush. 

The  baron  had  observed  the  scene  in  silence.  He  lightly 
pressed  the  rude  girl's  shoulder. 

"  Elsbeth,  Friiulein  von  Arning  offered  to  shake  hands  with 
you." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  an  air  of  mingled  timidity  and 
defiance  in  her  black  eyes,  but  only  for  a  second,  and  then,  as 
if  unwillingly,  held  out  a  brown  little  hand  to  the  baroness. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  cottage  was  oppressive.  Beatrice 
hurried  out  into  the  fresh  air,  and  Otto  closed  the  door  of  the 
hut  after  him  with  an  energy  that  seemed  inspired  by  a  desire 
to  shut  up  there  all  the  painful  impressions  of  the  last  few 
moments.  But  the  frown  upon  his  brow  showed  plainly 
enough  that  there  were  no  bolts  or  bars  that  could  confine 
behind  doors  of  oak  the  evil  spirits  which  the  old  woman's 
words  had  evoked  to  torture  him. 

Beatrice  looked  at  him  askance,  surmising  what  was  passing 
in  his  mind,  and  when  they  had  again  entered  the  forest  she 
took  courage,  and  began  shyly :  "  Do  not  look  so  distressed, 
Herr  von  Arning.  Why  heed  the  words  of  a  feeble  old 
woman  who  is  known  in  all  the  country  round  to  be  insane?" 

Otto  stood  still.  "  Insane !"  he  repeated,  impatiently.  "  The 
woman  is  no  more  insane  than  you  or  I.  What  she  said 
was  clear  and  comprehensible,  and  there  are  many  who  say 
likewise.  What !  has  madame  j^our  mother  not  told  you  a 
hundred  times  the  tale  to  which  the  old  hag  alluded  ?  And 
you,  can  you  deny  that  you  believed  it?"  Beatrice  stood 
covered  with  confusion,  the  colour  coming  and  going  in  her 
lovely  cheeks,  and  her  heart  throbbing  as  if  it  would  burst. — 
the  generous  heart  which  would  so  gladly  have  spared  the  man 
by  her  side,  guilty  or  not  guilty,  the  humiliation  he  had  just 
endured  in  her  presence.  She  could  not  tell  a  falsehood,  nor 
could  she  assent  to  his  words;  that  would  have  been  too  hard. 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  105 

Otto  regarded  her  for  a  moment,  awaiting  her  reply  with 
intense  eagerness.  In  answer  to  her  silence  he  turned  aside 
with  "  I  knew  it." 

He  walked  hastily  away,  but  scarcely  had  he  proceeded  half 
a  dozen  steps  when  a  new  thought  seemed  to  strike  him.  He 
turned,  and  once  more  approaching  the  young  girl,  who  was 
still  standing  downcast  at  the  edge  of  the  forest  where  he  had 
left  her,  he  said,  in  a  low,  quiet  voice, — 

"  I  cannot  convince  you  of  my  innocence.  If  I  could  have 
obtained  any  proof  of  it,  at  whatever  cost,  these  sixteen  years 
of  disgrace  had  never  been.  It  was  not  to  be.  I  will  not 
weary  you  with  asseverations.  I  wish  only  to  remind  you  of 
one  thing.  They  say  that  children,  in  place  of  the  reason 
and  judgment  that  so  often  mislead  their  elders,  possess  a 
keen  and  unerring  instinct,  enabling  them  to  distinguish 
friends  from  foes.  As  a  child  you  never  looked  upon  me  as 
your  foe.  No,  do  not  speak  !  I  do  not  repi'oach  you  with  the 
change.  I  see  now  that  under  the  weight  of  evidence  against 
me  none  but  a  child  could  have  believed  in  me.  Neverthe- 
less, I  entreat  you,  Beatrice,  to  call  up  in  your  memory,  when- 
ever you  are  tempted  to  condemn  me,  the  night  upon  which 
you  crossed  the  wild  moor  through  storm  and  rain." 

Before  Beatrice  could  recover  sufficient  composure  to  raise 
her  eyes,  she  was  alone. 

As  soon  as  the  door  of  the  moorland  cottage  had  closed 
upon  its  distinguished  visitors,  Elsbeth  turned  her  large  eyes 
all  aflame  upon  old  Stina. 

"  Grandmother,"  she  began,  "  they  say  you  are  wise,  and 
people  come  to  ask  you  what  is  going  to  happen.  I  only  want 
to  know  what  has  happened.  Tell  me,  if  you  can,  what  the 
Buchdorf  young  lady  did  before  she  was  born,  to  give  her  the 
right  to  lie  upon  cushions  of  down  and  be  fed  with  sweet- 
meats, while  you  beat  me  every  day  and  the  village  children 
throw  stones  at  me.     Or  tell  me  why  our  baron,  who  never 


lOG  ^    FAMILY  FEUD. 

speaks  to  any  one,  treats  the  bart)ness  with  so  much  honour 
although  he  hates  her,  while  he  hardly  seems  to  notice  me. 
She  is  no  prettier,  no  wiser,  no  more  cunning,  than  I.  Can 
you  tell  me  why  he  treats  her  better  ?" 

"Why?"  Stina  answered;  "why  else  than  because  she 
belongs  to  his  caste?  They  all  hold  togetlicr.  People  say 
there  is  one  law  for  all.  They  lie,  Els.  There  are  two  laws  in 
every  land,  one  for  the  rich,  another  for  the  starving.  I 
learned  that  in  my  travels.  Els." 

"  But  why  should  we  be  among  the  starving?"  Brown  Elsie 
persisted.  "  I  will  starve  no  longer.  Can  I  not  be  rich,  like 
the  baroness?" 

The  crone  wagged  her  head  to  and  fro.  "  No,  you  cannot, 
Els,"  she  said.  "  We  must  stay  as  we  are.  But  there  is  one 
thing  better,  child,  than  rank  or  wealth — Power!  Did  you 
see  how  patiently  the  wild  young  baron  listened  to  me?  Do 
you  think  he  would  have  borne  it  from  any  one  else  on  earth  ? 
No,  but  he'll  bear  it  from  old  Stina — oh,  yes,  child,  for  I  have 


power,  power 


And  as  she  spoke  she  cast  a  glance,  half  proud,  half  sly, 
towards  the  gaily-painted  chest. 


CHAPTER    X. 


Meanwhile,  Aunt  Bernhardine,  whose  parsimony  in- 
creased with  years,  was  sitting  in  the  simple  apartment  at 
Ermsdal,  where  was  spread  a  supper,  awaiting  her  nephew's 
return.  The  bare  room,  with  its  sanded  floor,  dull  chintz 
curtains,  and  white  scoured  wooden  chairs,  did  not  look  at  all 
cosy  or  inviting.  One  thing  of  beauty  alone  there  was  to 
cast  a  glory  over  all  the  bleak  surroundings, — the  rays  of  the 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  107 

setting  sun,  which  fortunately  did  not  own  the  sway  of  the 
prim  canoness. 

Aunt  Bernhardine  sat  stiff  and  straight  in  the  black  leather 
chair  by  the  stove,  and  her  knitting-needles  clicked  in  her 
fingers  as  busily  as  on  the  afternoon  when  we  first  made  her 
acquaintance  nearly  nineteen  years  ago.  Opposite  her,  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table,  sat  a  portly  little  man  who  was  per- 
petually moving  restlessly  upon  his  seat,  as  if  he  could  not 
accommodate  himself  to  its  narrow  wooden  proportions.  This 
visitor  was  Herr  von  Tannen,  Otto's  most  faithful  friend  and 
admirer,  and  an  old  comrade  of  his  father's.  All  Otto's  other 
neighbours  visited  Ermsdal  only  upon  special  business  occasions, 
but  Herr  von  Tannen  came  at  least  twice  every  week,  and 
refused  to  be  repulsed  either  by  Aunt  Bernhardine's  chilling 
reception  or  by  Otto's  misanthropical  demeanour. 

Tannen  was  not,  indeed,  compelled  when  he  came  to  Erms- 
dal to  share  the  frugal  meals  provided  by  the  canoness. 
Arning  knew  the  old  gentleman's  weakness  for  the  pleasui'es 
of  the  table,  and,  greatly  to  Aunt  Bernhardine's  annoyance, 
had  given  strict  orders  that  his  friend  was  always  to  be  suitably 
entertained.  Thus  the  baron  was  to-day  enabled  to  divert 
his  attention  from  old  Friiulein  von  Tretten,  who  did  not 
particularly  interest  him,  and  bestow  it  upon  a  most  engross- 
ing woodcock  and  venison  steak,  which,  with  a  bottle  of 
sherry,  presented  a  very  inviting  appearance  upon  the  table 
before  him.  The  conversation,  as  long  as  there  had  been 
any,  had  turned  upon  Otto's  return  from  the  capital,  and  his 
purchase  of  the  neighbouring  property  of  Repach ,  but  the 
subject  was  exhausted,  and  there  had  been  a  long  silence,  when 
Otto's  firm  quick  step  was  heard  in  the  hall. 

"  Good-evening,"  he  said  briefly,  almost  gruffly,  upon  enter- 
ing, throwing  his  hunting-cap  upon  the  nearest  chair ;  then  per- 
ceiving the  baron,  who  had  sprung  up,  napkin  in  hand,  to  greet 
him,  he  added,  in  a  more  kindly  tone,  "  Welcome,  Tannen." 


108  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

Without  heeding  this  curt  reception  the  baron  exclaimed 
cordially,  "So  here  you  arc  again,  Otto!  By  Jove,  you  have 
a  gift  for  supplying  idle  people  with  stuff  for  conversation  1 
Off  yesterday  morning,  without  a  word,  to  the  capital,  back 
again  at  noon  to-day  with  the  deed  of  purchase  of  llepach  in 
your  pocket,  and  an  hour  later  out  hunting,  all  as  if  it  were 
no  more  to  you  than  plucking  a  handful  of  daisies.  And  yet, 
if  you  will  allow  me,  Otto — I  suppose  you  know  best,  but  is 
not  the  purchase  of  that  property  rather  imprudent?  Repach 
is  a  pearl  for  a  hunter,  but  it  will  take  a  deal  of  hard  work  to 
make  it  a  valuable  estate." 

While  Tannen  spoke,  Otto  was  divesting  himself  of  his 
hunter's  wallet.  "So  much  the  better,"  he  rejoined.  "I 
bought  it  only  because  I  hoped  it  would  give  me  some  hard 
work." 

"  No,  no,  let  us  stop  working,"  the  old  gentleman  exclaimed, 
with  vivacity.  "You  have  worked  enough  for  a  lifetime; 
your  youth  has  been  spent  in  working.  True,  you  may  look 
with  pride  upon  what  you  have  done,  but  are  you  going  oa 
forever  adding  to  your  gains  ?  I  should  think  it  was  time  for 
you  to  enjoy " 

"Enjoy  what,  old  friend?"  Otto  asked,  with  a  shrug,  as 
he  took  up  his  rifle  to  clean  and  load  it  ready  for  the  next 
day. 

Meanwhile,  Aunt  Bernhardine  arranged  her  nephew's  plate 
and  glass,  and  hung  his  cap  upon  the  wall  where  it  belonged. 
The  canoness  could  not  leave  anything,  even  a  pin,  out  of 
place. 

"  I  see  no  result  of  your  hunting  to-day,"  Herr  von  Tannen 
said  gaily  to  Otto.  "  Bad  luck,  I  suppose.  Well,  it  does  not 
often  attend  your  rifle.  By  the  way,  I  have  a  piece  of  news 
for  you,  in  which  I  dare  swear  you  will  take  but  small  interest, 
but  which  I  shall  nevertheless  impart,  since  I  consider  it  my 
duty  not  to  allow  you  to  cut  yourself  oft"  entirely  from  the 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  109 

world  about  you.     Your  cousin,  Frau  von  Arning,  has  re- 
turned from  her  travels." 

"  I  know  it.    I  met  the  young  baroness  at  Repach." 

Aunt  Bernhardine  pricked  up  her  ears. 

"Indeed!"  Tannen  exclaimed.  "Chance  is  sure  to  be 
kinder  than  the  wayward  obstinacy  of  foolish  mortals.  The 
6rbt  meeting  for  nitie  years!" 

"I  certainly  have  great  cause  to  rejoice  in  the  kindness  of 
chance,"  Otto  rejoined,  coldly.  "It  not  only  arranged  our 
meeting,  but  provided  that  it  should  take  place  after  a  fashion 
that  reopened  all  the  old  wounds.  What  game  do  you  think, 
Tannen,  the  last  bullet  from  this  rifle  laid  low  ?  The  young 
baroness's  pet  deer." 

"  Ami  ?"  Tannen  exclaimed  in  dismay.  "  I  am  excessively 
sorry ;  the  poor  child  will  be  inconsolable." 

Otto  paused  with  the  ramrod  half  drawn  from  the  rifle- 
barrel,  and  turned  with  a  mocking  smile  to  his  visitor. 

"Oh,  indeed?  She  will  be  inconsolable,"  he  slowly  re- 
peated. "Is  that  all  you  have  to  say?  Gro  to  Buchdorf,  and 
Frau  von  Arning  will  give  you  the  true  version  of  the  affair, 
and  make  it  clear  as  sunlight  to  you  that  the  ball  that  struck 
the  deer  was  meant  for  its  mistress.  The  two  were  at  lea.st 
twelve  yards  apart;  but,  good  heavens!  what  of  that?  She 
will  probably  find  some  Herr  Warne  who  will  swear  to  it  that 
my  want  of  skill  alone  sent  the  bullet  so  wide  of  the  mark!" 

"Otto!  Otto!" 

The  baron  started  up,  and,  leaning  his  rifle  in  the  corner 
against  the  wall,  walked  to  the  window. 

Tannen  looked  after  him  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  and  then 
turned  with  a  glance  of  inquiry  to  Aunt  Bernhardine,  whose 
only  reply  was  a  shrug. 

In  some  displccxsure  he  took  up  his  hat.  "  You  are  unjuct 
to  the  baroness  and  to  yourself,  Arning,"  he  said. 

Otto  made  no  answer. 

10 


110  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  I  came  to  a.sk  a  favour  of  you,"  Tannen  began  again, 
"  but  I  see  you  are  not  in  the  mood  to  listen  to  me  quietly, 
so  I  will  postpone  it  to  some  future  time." 

Otto  came  back  to  the  table.  His  face  was  calm,  his  features 
wore  an  expression  of  weariness.  "  Pray  tell  me,  Tannen,  if 
T  can  be  of  service  to  you  in  any  way,"  he  said. 

"  I  hope  to  heaven  that  I  may  be  able  to  convince  you  of 
the  desirability  of  what  I  propose,"  the  old  baron  cried,  taking 
fresh  courage.  "  Week  after  next.  Otto,  I  am  going  to  give 
a  dinner.  Yes,  now  you  know  what  is  coming !  For  years 
you  have  been  invited  to  every  entertainment,  large  or  small, 
that  has  been  given  at  my  house,  and  you  have  invariably 
courteously  declined  to  come  to  me.  I  think  my  patience 
deserves  to  be  crowned  with  some  success." 

"  You  trouble  me !"  Otto  impatiently  intemipted  him. 
"  Have  I  not  repeatedly  explained  to  you  the  reasons  for  my 
refusals  ?  I  am  not  fit  for  society,  certainly  not  for  the  so- 
ciety about  here,  which  believes  itself  entirely  cognizant  of  my 
past  and  tells  the  wildest  tales  with  regard  to  my  present 
life.  Shall  I  expose  myself  to  be  stared  at  as  if  I  were  some 
strange  animal  ?  If  at  sight  of  me  there  were  the  slightest 
whisper,  if  any  one  dared  to  make  the  faintest  allusion  to  my 
Avretched  past,  I  could  not  endure  it !  There  would  be  some 
dreadful  scene,  and — that  would  spoil  your  pleasant  party," 
he  added,  interrupting  himself 

"  My  house  ought  to  afford  you  surety  of  your  safety  from 
all  insult,"  Tannen  gravely  replied ;  "  and  you  are  entirely 
mistaken  with  regard  to  the  sentiments  of  a  society  which  you 
have  shunned  for  sixteen  years.  No  one  is  hostilely  disposed 
towards  you  ;  the  only  one  who  unfortunately  will  not  yet  see 
how  much  we  all  sinned  against  ycu — Frau  von  Arning — will 
probably  not  appear,  and  both  you  and  she  will  be  spared 
the  annoyance  of  meeting.  Come,  Otto,  be  reasonable  for 
once." 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  Ill 

"  I  have  never  even  paid  my  respects  to  Madame  von 
Tanuen,"  Otto  said,  with  hesitation. 

Tannen  saw  that  the  victory  was  his. 

"  Two  weeks  is  a  long  time,"  he  replied.  "  You  can  easily 
repair  that  omission.  And  even  if  you  should  not  observe 
the  formality  required  by  conventionality,  we  shall  never  call 
you  to  account  for  it.  My  wife  and  daughters  think  as  I  do, 
that  a  man  just  re-awakening  to  social  life  should  not  be  fright- 
ened back  to  his  retirement  by  too  strict  an  adherence  to  social 
etiquette." 

Without  looking  up.  Otto  held  out  his  hand  to  his  friend. 

"  You  are  so  considerate  of  me,  Tannen,"  he  said,  gently. 
"  Well,  I  will  overcome  myself ;  I  will  try  once  more  to 
mingle  with  my  kind.     Are  you  satisfied?" 

"  More  than  satisfied  !  Be  sure  that  better  days  await  you," 
his  friend  replied,  cordially  grasping  the  proffered  hand. 
"  And  now  farewell  for  to-day.  You  are  not  in  the  mood 
for  a  visit,  so  I  will  disturb  you  no  longer." 

And  the  vivacious  little  baron  took  his  leave  as  well  pleased 
as  if  he  had  gained  some  great  personal  advantage. 

No  invitation  had  been  extended  to  Aunt  Bernhardine,  who 
never  left  Ermsdal,  because  she  was  unwilling  to  spend  the 
money  which  it  would  have  cost  to  provide  her  with  a  suitable 
dress. 

It  was  strange  that  with  all  her  parsimony  she  spent  a  very 
considerable  sum  yearly.  Any  one  else  except  Otto  would 
have  been  struck  by  this  fact,  but  the  baron  paid  no  attention 
to  what  concerned  neither  himself  nor  the  management  of  his 
property. 

Meanwhile,  Beatrice  had  walked  slowly  home,  lost  in 
thought.  One  short  interview  with  Otto  had  sufficed  to 
overthrow  the  barrier  of  fear,  mistrust,  and  hatred  which  for 
nine  long  years  her  mother  had  been  striving  to  build  up  ia 


112  A  FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

her  heart.  Every  proof  of  Otto's  guilt  was  powerless  to  con- 
vince her  or  to  lull  to  sleep  her  re- awakened  faith  in  him. 
She  took  herself  to  task  for  her  sympathy  with  one  pronounced 
so  unworthy,  and  yet  she  could  not  but  believe  in  him. 
Where  should  she  turn  for  certainty  on  the  subject?  To  the 
memories  of  her  childhood  ?  She  did  so  ;  every  little  circum- 
stance connected  with  the  estranged  cousin,  every  word  of 
Otto's,  came  thronging  to  her  thoughts. 

In  the  agitation  of  her  mind  she  avoided  meeting  any  one ; 
she  silently  slipped  past  the  drawing-room,  where  she  heard 
her  mother  speaking  with  the  steward,  and  ran  up-stairs  to 
her  own  room.  Here  she  shut  and  bolted  the  door  with 
a  sigh  of  relief,  and  throwing  herself  into  a  low  chair  in  the 
deep  window-recess,  drew  around  her  the  heavy  curtains,  that 
she  might  be  all  alone  with  her  reflections. 

About  an  hour  later  Lindau  returned  from  his  ride;  he 
looked  up  to  the  young  girl'i  window,  but  Beatrice  bent  her 
head  that  she  might  not  be  seen  and  perhaps  compelled  to  re- 
ply to  a  gesture  of  greeting.  Only  in  answer  to  the  summons 
to  supper  did  she  present  herself  among  the  members  of  the 
household.  As  she  passed  through  the  drawing-room  it  oc- 
curred to  her  that  there  had  once  hung  there  on  the  wall  above 
a  lounge  a  portrait  of  Otto,  the  only  likeness  of  him  in  exist- 
ence. It  was  a  little  pastel  drawing  representing  the  young 
baron  at  about  nine  years  of  age,  in  a  blue  velvet  tunic,  with 
light  hair  and  dark-blue  eyes  in  which  there  was  already  more 
of  a  haughty  gravity  than  of  childish  gaiety.  Kurt  had  often 
taken  it  down  to  show  to  his  little  daughter,  but  when  the 
house  had  been  refurnished  it  had  been  banished  to  a  lumber- 
room,  and  Beatrice  had  forgotten  it.  Now  it  suddenly  arose 
before  her  mind's  eye  in  every  detail,  even  to  the  handle  of  the 
riding-whip  which  the  boy  held  in  his  hand,  and  she  resolved 
that  though  it  should  cost  her  a  search  through  every  cup- 
board and  closet  in  the  spacious  house,  she  would  find  this 


A   FA  MIL  y  FEUD.  113 

picture  on  the  morrow  and  give  it  a  place,  not  where  it  had 
formerly  hung,  but  in  her  own  room. 

Bent  upon  carrying  out  this  resolve,  she  entered  the  dining, 
room  where  the  chandelier  was  already  lighted  and  the  table 
shone  in  the  splendour  of  glass  and  silver.  Yes,  it  looked  far 
more  splendid  than  cosy  or  comfortable ;  only  four  covers  laid 
at  the  huge  table  !  only  four  people  in  the  spacious  apart- 
ment, lighted  as  if  for  a  ball,  with  its  gigantic  side-board  and 
high-backed  chairs  of  carved  oak  !  Beatrice  quietly  took  her 
scat,  and  was  unusually  silent  during  the  entire  meal. 

Herr  von  Lindau,  on  the  contrary,  was  extremely  loquacious ; 
he  had  had  a  most  interesting  ride,  and  he  now  gave  free  rein 
to  the  eloquence  which  his  "  mamma"  had  so  frequently  ex- 
tolled. He  began  a  long  story  of  an  old  witch  and  an  en- 
chanted princess  whom  she  kept  spell-bound  in  her  den,  but 
who  nevertheless  had  given  him  a  cup  of  water  with  the  pret- 
tiest hands  in  the  world.  Beatrice  scarcely  looked  up  from 
her  plate ;  she  could  not  help  a  blush  now  and  then,  for  she 
suspected  to  whom  Lindau  referred.  The  baroness,  however, 
listened  with  unaffected  interest  until  Warne,  who  sat  with 
downcast  eyes  performing  the  masterly  feat  of  keenly  watching 
three  people  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  remarked  in  a  low 
tone,  "  The  baron  has  probably  encountered  Brown  Elsie,  as 
the  villagers  call  her, — Elsbeth  Mai,  who  lives  with  her  grand- 
mother on  the  Ermsdal  moor." 

"  No,  no,  not  in  Ermsdal.  I  saw  '  Repach,'  or  some  name 
like  it  upon  the  milestone." 

"  You  are  right,"  the  steward  replied ;  "  but  the  bit  of  ground 
upon  which  the  hut  stand,  belongs  to  Ermsdal,  although  it  is 
within  the  boundary  of  Repach.  Old  Stina  formerly  led  a 
wandering  life,  but  more  than  ten  years  ago  she  took  up  her 
abode  in  an  Ermsdal  hut.  Her  landlord  of  course  has  reasons 
for  allowing  her  to  live  there." 

"  How  then  ?  Your  disguised  princess  turns  out  to  be  Elsbeth 
10* 


Hi  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

Mai  ?"  the  baroness  exclaimed,  in  surprise.  "  And  is  this  gipsy 
girl  really  handsome  ?" 

Frau  von  Arning  had  often  seen  Brown  Elsie  during  her 
childhood  and  girlhood  roaming  field  and  forest,  but  it  was  one 
of  Theresa's  characteristics  that  she  rarely  took  notice  of  any 
human  being  in  rags. 

Lindau  continued  to  expatiate  upon  the  charms  of  his  lately- 
discovered  beauty,  thei'eby  delighting  no  one  so  much  as  the 
steward,  who  had  observed  the  glance,  half  timid,  half  searching 
with  which  Beatrice  had  greeted  the  first  mention  of  Elsbeth, 
and  had  ascribed  it  to  jealousy.  Nothing  could  more  entirely 
accord  with  his  plans  than  this  imprudence  upon  Lindau's 
part,  and  in  order  to  increase  the  supposed  discord  thus  arising 
between  the  young  people  he  skilfully  incited  the  baron  to  a 
8till  greater  degree  of  enthusiasm.  But  Beatrice  neither  by 
look  nor  word  furnished  any  further  food  for  his  suspicions, 
and  Emil,  who  had  been  carried  away  rather  by  his  own  elo- 
quence than  by  Elsbeth's  beauty,  suddenly  changed  the  topic 
of  his  discourse. 

"  You  spoke  of  Ermsdal,  Herr  Warne.  I  saw  that  name 
also  on  a  sign-post.  The  estate  belongs  also  to  an  Arning, — 
Otto  von  Arning,  if  I  do  not  mistake  ?" 

"  You  are  right,"  Theresa  replied,  coldly.  "  Are  you  ac- 
quainted with  its  possessor  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  that ;  our  major  presented  him  to  us  and  made 
much  of  him.  Herr  von  Arning  seems  to  be  an  agricultural 
genius ;  at  least  every  one  says  that  in  an  inconceivably  short 
space  of  time  he  transformed  a  barren  waste  into  a  very  valua- 
ble estate,  and  a  swarm  of  beggars  into  a  prosperous  peasantry. 
This  may  be  an  exaggeration." 

"  A  very  great  exaggeration,"  the  steward  remarked. 

"  No,  no,  it  is  the  truth !"  the  baroness,  who  never  con. 
sciously  gave  her  support  to  an  untruth,  contradicted  him. 
"  I  knew  Ermsdal  as  it  was  formerly,  and  according  to  the 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  115 

unanimous  testimony  of  credible  eye-witnesses,  Herr  von  Ar- 
ning  has  accomplished  the  impossible." 

"  So  much  the  better,  madame.  I  am  extremely  glad  to  hear 
the  good  opinion  expressed  in  the  capital  concerning  him  thus 
confirmed  by  his  neighbours.  For  a  friend,  he  seems  to  me 
too  cold,  too  re  erved  a  man,  but  he  is  evidently  a  person  of 
distinction,  and  my  mamma  is  always  pleased  to  have  me  cul- 
tivate people  of  distinction.  To-morrow  I  will  ride  over  to 
Ermsdal  and " 

"  You  will  greatly  oblige  me  by  not  doing  as  you  propose, 
Herr  von  Lindau,"  said  the  baroness. 

There  was  in  her  voice  a  tone  of  rebuke  which  embarrassed 
the  young  man. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  madame,"  he  stammered.  "  I  did  not 
know — of  course  if  you  disapprove " 

"  Herr  von  Arning  is  a  relative  of  ours,"  Theresa  went  on 
in  the  same  tone. 

"  Of  course  !  What  was  I  thinking  of?  The  name  is  the 
same.  It  never  occurred  to  me.  Excuse  me,  I  pray  you, 
madame,  and  be  assured  I  shall  not  transgress  your  wishes  in 
the  matter." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  impose  any  restraint,  however  slight,  upon 
your  actions,"  the  baroness  replied,  with  her  air  of  loftiest 
dignity,  "but  there  can  be  no  intercourse  between  Buchdorf 
and  Ermsdal.  Do  not  misconstrue  me,  Herr  von  Lindau. 
This  alienation  was  caused  by  no  ordinary  family  disagreement. 
But  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  frankly  to  explain  the  mattter 
to  you." 

The  knife  and  fork  that  Beatrice  held  jingled  slightly. 
"Was  she  to  be  condemned  to  listen  to  a  tale  every  word  of 
which  in  her  present  mood  would  pain  her  like  the  touch 
of  red-hot  steel?  She  arose,  and,  leaning  one  hand  upon 
the  table,  she  said,  turning  her  large  serious  eyes  upon  her 
mother, — 


IIG  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  Mamma,  Ilerr  von  Aruing  is  almost  the  only  relative  we 
have  in  the  world.  Would  you  acquaint  a  stranger  with  his 
unfortunate  history, — accuse  him  to  a  stranger  of  a  crime 
which  was  never  proved?" 

These  were  the  first  words  uttered  by  Beatrice  since  her 
appearance  at  table,  and  they  produced  an  extraordinary  effect. 
The  steward  stared  at  the  young  girl  with  eyes  wide  open  for 
once;  the  baroness  shook  her  head  in  some  irritation.  The 
outcast's  name  had  never  been  uttered  with  such  forbear- 
ance within  the  walls  of  Buchdorf  since  the  death  of  the  old 
baron. 

"  These  are  singular  expressions  of  yours,  my  dear  Beatrice," 
she  said,  reprovingly,  "  expressions  not  without  a  shade  of 
offence  in  them,  unintentional  on  your  part  I  am  sure.  Herr 
von  Lindau  certainly  is  no  stranger,  nor,  so  far  as  I  know, 
has  there  been  any  secret  with  regard  to  your  cousin's  actions. 
Whence  then  this  sudden  sentimentality  ?  Unfortunately  you 
had,  as  a  child,  an  inconceivable  penchant  for  the  man,  which 
it  cost  me  much  time  and  pains  to  eradicate,  but  I  trusted  it 
was  entirely  overcome.  I  should  be  excessively  sorry  if  you 
were  ever  to  relapse  into  your  childish  error.  Herr  Warne 
and  I  have  certainly  often  enough  detailed  to  you  the  circum- 
stances which  afforded  incontestable  proofs  of  his  guilt." 

"  Incontestable  proofs  ?  The  court  acquitted  him,  and  papa 
did  not  believe  him  guilty,"  Beatrice  firmly  rejoined.  While 
the  mother  was  speaking,  the  daughter's  eyes  were  never  for  a 
moment  averted  from  her  face,  and  something  in  their  expres- 
sion and  in  the  pale  earnest  countenance  told  Theresa  that  for 
some  reason,  whatever  it  might  be,  Beatrice  was  not  to  be  ruled 
to-day.  There  never  must  be  anything  like  a  dispute  between 
them.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and,  rising  from  table, 
said,  with  her  most  pacific  air,  "  Herr  von  Lindau  is  to  finish 
reading  us  that  interesting  article  this  evening,  is  he  not  ? 
Wait  for  me,  children  ;  I  will  be  with  you  in  a  few  minutes.    1 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  117 

am  only  going  for  some  papers  which  I  wish  to  hand  to  Herr 
Warne." 

And  with  a  graceful  inclination  she  left  the  room. 

The  others,  with  varied  emotions,  betook  themselves  to  the 
drawing-room.  Lindau  sat  down  at  the  grand  piano,  and  rat- 
tled away  at  a  waltz  with  considerably  more  mistakes  than 
usual.  He  was  dying  of  curiosity  to  know  something  more 
of  the  mysterious  lord  of  Ermsdal. 

Beatrice  sat  in  a  window-recess,  looking  out  at  the  starlit 
heavens,  mechanically  searching  for  the  constellations  with 
which  she  was  familiar,  and  wondering  whether  Lindau  could 
possibly  know  of  her  meeting  with  her  cousin.  At  another 
window  stood  the  steward,  also  lost  in  his  own  reflections. 
He  was  vainly  endeavouring  to  harmonize  his  two  discoveries, 
Beatrice's  jealousy  of  Elsbeth,  and  her  sudden  partisanship 
for  Otto.  This  last  could  not  possibly  in  a  girl  of  her  charac- 
ter have  been  the  result  of  irritation  against  Lindau  and  a 
wild  desire  to  speak  of  him  contemptuously  as  a  stranger. 
No,  no,  its  cause  lay  much  deeper.  "  And  even  if  it  is  to  be 
found  only  at  the  earth's  centre  I  will  know  it,"  Warne  said  to 
himself,  in  conclusion  of  his  reverie.  Meanwhile  he  would 
carry  out  the  plan  he  had  formed  of  separating  the  young  peo- 
ple at  all  hazards.  To  this  end  he  would  jestingly  direct  the 
young  baroness's  attention  to  some  of  her  adorer's  follies.  He 
had  studied  human  nature  sufficiently  to  know  that  a  fault  of 
character  is  more  readily  forgiven  than  a  weakness. 

Noiselessly  he  approached  the  young  girl. 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  ask  to  have  the  reading  begin  now?" 
he  asked,  with  a  glance  towards  the  piano  ;  "  in  pity  to  your 
nerves,  Fraulein  von  Arning.  The  will  is  good,  but  the  ca- 
pacity is  small." 

Beatrice  smiled  good-humouredly.  "  Do  not  stop  him, 
Herr  Warne,"  she  said,  kindly.  "  It  gives  him  pleasure,  and 
really  it  does  not  annoy  me  much." 


118  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

Tlie  baroness  eutercd,  Lindau  began  to  read,  and  the  evening 
passed  quietly. 

The  next  day  Beatrice  was  very  busy.  First  she  found 
her  cousin's  portrait  and  concealed  it  in  her  most  private 
drawer.  Then  she  unlocked  her  father's  antique  secretary 
and  began  to  peruse  carefully  every  paper  it  contained,  hoping 
to  find  some  evidence  in  Otto's  favour.  Her  mother  made  no 
remark  upon  her  conduct,  supposing  it  to  be  prompted  by  a 
sudden  access  of  filial  aifection.  Her  search,  however,  was 
entirely  fruitless. 

She  found  many  affectionate  expressions,  it  is  true,  with 
regard  to  Otto,  in  her  father's  handwriting,  showing  his  con- 
fidence in  his  young  relative,  but  nothing  that  would  have 
given  an  impartial  observer  any  decisive  evidence  in  Otto's 
favour. 

In  the  afternoon  Beatrice  visited  many  of  the  cottagers  with 
whom  she  had  been  upon  terms  of  affectionate  intimacy  in  her 
childhood.  As  if  by  chance,  she  led  them  to  speak  of  old 
times,  and  she  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  the  opinion 
prevailing  among  them  very  different  from  that  entertained  in 
her  home.  The  present  prosperity  of  the  Ermsdalers,  who  in 
former  times  were  driven  by  destitution  to  make  large  demands 
every  winter  upon  the  richer  peasantry  of  the  neighbouring 
estates,  had  impressed  these  simple  people,  accustomed  to 
judge  by  facts,  most  favourably,  and  disposed  them  to  espouse 
the  cause  of  their  former  "young  master."  Of  course  they 
did  not  frankly  avow  their  change  of  sentiment,  but  it  was  not 
difficult  for  Beatrice  to  divine  from  what  they  said  their  true 
opinion. 

During  the  following  days  she  continued  her  investigations, 
with  the  same  result.  Every  morning  also,  long  before  the 
baroness  arose,  she  visited  the  moorland  hut  to  see  her  wounded 
deer,  which  improved  daily.  This  went  on  for  a  week,  and 
Beatrice  was  seldom  in  the  house  except  at  meal-times  and  in 


A   FA  MIL F  FEUD.  119 

the  evenings.  The  mother  paid  little  heed  to  this  whim,  as 
she  thought  it,  of  her  daughter ;  but  Herr  von  Lindau  was 
driven  to  desperation  by  the  constant  absence  of  his  ideal.  In 
spite  of  the  old  gardener's  remonstrances,  he  robbed  the  green- 
houses of  their  choicest  treasures,  and  at  night  Beatrice  would 
find  her  cherished  blossoms  tied  into  a  huge  nosegay  lying 
fading  on  the  floor  of  her  bedroom,  hurled  there  through  the 
open  window  by  Emil,  and  almost  always  accompanied  by  a 
copy  of  verses  lamenting,  in  rather  halting  rhymes,  the  invisi- 
bility of  his  sun,  his  star,  or  his  rose,  while  he  was  doomed 
to  tread  the  earth  alone. 

In  all  this  he  was  assisted  and  abetted  by  Warne,  who 
laughed  in  his  sleeve  the  while,  for  he  knew  that  Beatrice 
could  not  endure  the  wanton  destruction  of  her  favourites,  and 
detested  bad  verses. 


CHAPTER    XL 

Mother  Stina  was  thought  a  skilful  fortune-teller,  and 
the  peasants  listened  to  her  as  to  an  oracle.  And  people  who 
were  not  superstitious  often  secretly  consulted  her.  For,  even 
if  she  could  not  foretell  the  future,  she  was  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  a  thousand  private  circumstances  connected  with 
people  of  all  ranks  in  the  country  round,  and  was  quite  willing 
n)r  a  consideration  to  afford  exact  intelligence  concerning  the 
present,  which  should  surely  be  enough  for  any  reasonable 
man. 

Warne  had  oflen  been  of  this  latter  number.  However 
successfully  he  might  oppose  Lindau's  views,  he  felt  himself 
powerless  in  face  of  the  vague  danger  that  undeniably  menaced 
him  in  Beatrice's  unaccountable  chaujie  of  sentiment  towunLs 


120  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

her  cousin.  Perhaps  old  Stina  might  help  liim  to  a  solutioa 
of  this  riddle.  And  then  he  had  another  plan.  In  order  to 
make  Lindau  quite  harmless,  he  would  bring  about  some  en- 
tanglement between  the  young  man  and  Brown  Elsie,  or  at 
least  some  appearance  of  such  entanglement. 

Thus  one  evening,  when  the  household  at  Buchdorf  had 
betaken  themselves  to  rest,  when  the  dogs  were  unchained  in 
thi  court-yard,  and  the  full  moon  was  miri'orcd  in  the  lake 
beside  the  sleeping  swans,  Warne  walked  noiselessly  along  the 
forest  paths  towards  the  moorland  hut.  Silence  reigned  around 
him,  the  birds  had  long  been  sleeping  in  their  nests,  the  still- 
ness was  broken  only  now  and  then  by  the  eerie  cry  of  the 
night-owl.  On  the  strip  of  meadow  between  the  wood  and 
the  moor,  however,  the  shrill  chirp  of  the  cricket  disturbed 
the  air,  and  the  frogs  were  croaking  in  the  neighbouring  marsh. 
Like  some  uneasy  ghost  the  steward  glided  across  the  moonlit 
clearing,  and  slipped  easily  through  the  opening  of  the  door 
of  the  hut,  which  stood  ajar.  He  might  have  opened  it  wide, 
but  it  was  one  of  Warne's  habits  never  to  open  a  door  wider 
than  would  suffice  to  admit  of  his  entrance.  The  moonlight, 
however,  reigned  alone  in  the  interior  of  the  hut;  neither  of 
its  inmates  was  to  be  found  there ;  and  leaving  it  in  some  irri- 
tation at  having  taken  his  midnight  walk  in  vain,  Warne  was 
about  to  retrace  his  steps,  when  he  started  back  with  an  invol- 
untary exclamation  of  surprise  and  admiration. 

In  the  tall  blooming  heather,  almost  at  his  feet,  lay  Elsbeth 
Mai  in  her  fantastic  dress,  her  small  head  propped  upon  her 
brown,  shapely  arm,  and  a  wreath  of  scarlet  hawthorn  hips 
twined  about  her  raven  hair.  Her  other  hand  lay  caressingly 
upon  the  graceful  head  of  a  deer  that  was  nestling  affectionately 
beside  her,  and  the  moon  was  mirrored  in  her  large  dark  eyes, 
now  gazing  towards  the  skies  with  an  expression  fiiU  of 
melancholy  and  entirely  devoid  of  the  cunning  and  the  distrust- 
ful defiance  that  usually  characterized  lier.    She  was  indeed,  as 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  121 

Herr  von  Lindau  "had  declared,  a  fairj-like  apparition,  and  the 
steward  might  well  pause  before  her  in  admiration. 

"Elsbeth!"  he  exclaimed,  "what  have  you  been  doing  to 
yourself?     I  never  saw  you  so  beautiful  before !" 

She  did  not  alter  her  position  in  the  least,  but  the  old  evil 
expression  fell  like  a  veil  over  her  lovely  features. 

"Where  is  your  grandmother,  Elsbeth?"  Warne  continued, 
perceiving  that  the  girl  was  not  inclined  to  reply  to  his  first 
address. 

Brown  Elsie  motioned  carelessly  in  the  direction  of  the 
moor ;  but  when  the  steward,  instead  of  departing  at  this  mute 
sign,  remained  standing  before  her,  she  said,  impatiently, 
"  Mother  Stina  is  out  on  the  moor,  where  the  devil  teaches  her 
magic,  and  she  will  not  come  home  until  morning.  So  if  you 
have  another  scrap  of  paper  in  your  pocket  like  the  one  you 
brought  last  year,  and  many  another  year  before  that,,  give  it  to 
me,  for  heaven's  sake.  My  grandmother  shall  have  it  unread, 
I  promise  you,  for  I  cannot  read." 

The  steward  sat  down  beside  her  in  the  fragrant  heather. 
Elsbeth  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  Well?"  she  asked,  turning  to  him  with  a  stare  of  surprise. 
"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  my  grandmother  would  not  be  home 
until  morning?" 

Warne  nevertheless  persisted.  "And  why  should  that 
prevent  our  having  a  little  conversation  together?"  he  said, 
calmly.  "What  have  you  twined  among  your  hair,  child? 
Hawthorn  hips?  Admirable!  The  fiery  scarlet  is  most  be- 
coming to  your  olive  skin.  Would  you  like  me  to  buy  you  a 
coral  necklace,  Elsbeth,  and  a  fine  new  gown?" 

"You?  For  me?"  Brown  Elsie  started  up,  but,  imme- 
diately sinking  back  again,  she  said,  in  an  offensively  indiffer- 
ent tone,  "Oh,  yes,  T  always  forget  that  you  are  a  rich  man, 
Herr  Warne.  You  inherited  money  from  your  father  '  now 
in  bliss,'  as  the  Herr  Pastor  savs — 'tis  a  fine  thing — such  a 
r  11 


122  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

father!"  She  slowly  plucked  to  pieces  a  heather  blossom.  "I 
wonder  if  your  father  really  is  in  bliss,  Herr  Warne?" 

The  steward  bit  his  lip  and  shot  an  angry  glance  from  be- 
neath his  drooping  eyelids  at  the  delicate  creature  beside  him 
who  dared  to  speak  so  boldly  and  mockingly.  "What  do  you 
mean?"  he  asked. 

The  head  of  the  strange  girl  sank  back  among  the  heather, 
and  there  was  no  possible  meaning  to  be  gathered  from  the 
placid,  almost  stupid  expression  of  her  features,  as  she  replied, 
sleepily,  "Why,  the  pastor  says  that  the  striving  for  gain  and 
gold  does  not  lead  directly  to  bliss.  But  what  of  that?  All 
I  know  is,  your  father  left  you  money.  I  wish  my  grand- 
mother would  be  so  kind." 

The  steward  breathed  freely  again,  but  he  still  glanced 
suspiciously  at  the  girl.  "What  you  say  sounds  very  heart- 
less," he  said,  slowly. 

"I  have  no  heart,"  Elsbeth  assented.  "Why  or  for  whom 
should  I  have  any?  Has  not  every  one  mocked,  and  beaten, 
and  despised  me  ever  since  I  can  remember?  And  I  hate 
them  all, — the  whole  world !  But  I  will  be  rich  and  powerftil, 
and  then  have  my  revenge." 

Warne  was  not  slow  to  take  advantage  of  the  mood  these 
words  disclosed  in  this  untutored,  almost  savage  nature.  He 
began  with  wily  words  to  give  point  and  direction  to  her  vague 
discontents, — painted  the  impression  which  her  beauty  al- 
though clouded  by  poverty  had  made  upon  the  young  officer 
Emil  von  Lindau,  spoke  of  the  brilliant  future  that  her  per- 
sonal advantages  ought  to  secure  for  her,  and  of  Emil's  wealth, — 
all  in  an  easy  way,  as  though  it  had  been  suddenly  suggested 
to  him  by  her  unexpected  presence.  He  desired  but  to  give 
the  first  impetus  to  the  stone ;  it  would  roll  fast  enough  down 
hill  without  further  help. 

In  his  own  eyes  his  discourse  was  a  masterpiece ;  and  the 
manner  in  which  Elsbeth  listened  to  his  words,  her  head  bent 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  123 

as  if  in  shy  pleasure,  was  well  fitted  to  make  him  sure  of  their 
effect.  But  when,  with  a  jest  upon  the  conquest  she  had 
made,  and  an  added  wish  that  her  rise  in  life  might  be  speedy, 
he  would  have  laid  his  hand  caressingly  upon  his  "little 
friend's"  graceful  head,  the  girl  slipped  from  him  with  a 
lithe  celerity  that  justified  one  of  her  nicknames,  that  of 
lizard,  and  springing  to  her  feet  stood  before  the  startled  man 
the  next  instant  with  folded  arms,  her  eyes  full  of  gloomy 
menace. 

"  Soh,  Herr  Warne  !"  she  said,  slowly  ;  "  I  have  listened  to 
all  you  had  to  say,  because  I  wanted  to  know  exactly  what 
fine  plot  you  were  hatching,  and  for  whom.  Now  I  know  it 
as  well  as  if  I  had  made  it  myself;  and  you  also,  my  fine 
gentleman,  as  perfectly  as  I  know  my  beloved  moor  out  there, 
with  its  soft  mossy  surface  above,  and  its  bottomless  mud  be- 
low. When  you  sat  down  by  me  and  spoke  kindly  to  me  I 
knew  you  wanted  something  of  me;  when  you  ofi"ered  me 
coral  and  a  new  gown  I  knew  it  must  be  something  great,  for 
you  never  give  more  than  half  pay  for  service  done.  Oh,  you 
need  not  be  angry.  I  praise  you  when  I  say  so,  for  if  you 
were  a  spendthrift  how  could  your  father  have  left  you  so 
much  money?" 

She  gave  a  short  scornful  laugh,  and  then  went  on  in  a 
lower  tone,  in  which,  in  spite  of  her  effort  to  appear  indif- 
ferent, there  was  a  tremor  of  acute  pain.  "  You  would  de- 
ceive me, — so  meanly,  so  hatefully;  no  other  girl  would  fci- 
give  you ;  but  Brown  Elsie  has  always  been  used  to  be  ill 
treated.  I  wish  you  no  worse  than  I  do  the  whole  world,  but 
rather  better,  for  in  your  scheme  my  ruin  was  not  your  object ; 
you  only  wanted  to  bring  to  grief  the  haughty  ladies  at  Buch- 
dorf.  You  hate  them  as  I  do,  those  rich,  great  people,  only  I 
cast  my  hati-ed  boldly  in  their  faces,  while  you  humbly  kiss 
the  ground  before  them.  Look  you,  Warne,"  the  girl  went 
on  more  quietly,  "  I  know  you  were  only  jeering  me  a  while 


124  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

ago  when  you  culled  me  clever.  But  indeed  I  know  many 
a  thing  that  you  will  not  find  in  books,  and  that  may  chance 
to  be  useful  to  you.  For  five  miles  around  here  there  is  not 
a  house  that  holds  a  secret  from  me,  Brown  Elsie.  It  is  I  who 
supply  Mother  Stina  with  the  knowledge  that  makes  the  stupid 
people  who  come  to  her  stare,  and  although  I  am  not  made  to 
be  your  humble  servant  as  my  grandmother  is,  heaven  knows 
why,  I  will  give  you  faithful  help  against  the  girl  at  Buch- 
dorf,  if  for  once  in  your  life  you  can  keep  faith." 

"  But,  my  dear  child,"  the  steward  cried,  delightedly,  "  did 
I  ask  anything  of  you  but  your  friendly  aid  ?  If  my  scheme 
does  not  suit  you,  improve  it  if  you  can.  I  came  hither  to 
ask  your  advice." 

"  Your  scheme  is  bad,  and,  besides,  useless,"  Elsbeth  replied. 
"  The  Frilulein  will  never  be  Lindau's  wife." 

"  But  the  early  morning  walks,"  Warne  said,  as  if  to  him- 
self. 

"You  know  of  those  too?  Nothing  escapes  those  half- 
shut  eyes  of  yours.  Swear  to  me  that  the  coral  necklace  shall 
be  mine,  and  a  hat  just  like  the  one  with  a  wreath  of  water- 
lilies  that  your  Fraulein  wears,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  those 
walks  are  for." 

"  Why  should  I  swear,  Elsbeth  ?  All  these  you  shall 
surely  have." 

"  Can  I  be  sure  of  that  ?  I  shall  be  more  sure  if  you 
swear,  for  you  are  superstitious,  my  dear  Herr  Warne ;  for 
instance,  you  are  not  fond  of  the  cry  of  the  cuckoo, — not  even 
when  it  comes  from  a  cuckoo-clock.  If  you  do  not  keep 
your  promise  I  will  dog  your  heels  and  cry  'cuckoo!'  I  know 
how  to  do  it, — '  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !'  " 

The  cry  was  so  natural  that  the  steward  started  and  looked 
around.     Elsbeth  laughed. 

"  I  swear,  then,"  he  said,  peevishly.  "  I  swear  by  all  that  is 
holy.     And  now,  tell  me  quickly." 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  125 

"  Listen,  then.  Last  Friday  a  week  ago,  Fraulein  Beatrice 
came  here  with  our  master " 

"  With  your  master !  Are  you  dreaming,  Elsbeth  ?  With 
Otto  Ton  Arning  ?"  the  steward  cried. 

Elsbeth  nodded.  "  I  know  enough  to  see  how  very  un- 
pleasant it  would  be  for  you,  who  have  played  the  master  in 
Buchdorf  so  long  and  so  well,  to  let  him  have  a  sight  of  your 
cards.  Never  mind,  I  will  tell  you  how  to  prevent  it.  So 
the  two  came  to  our  hut;  he  brought  the  deer  which  he 
had  Wounded,  and  they  wanted  granny  to  nurse  it.  But  she 
would  do  nothing  but  talk  about  a  time  that  the  Herr  Baron 
does  not  like  much  to  think  of,  and  he  grew  furious,  and  the 
Fraulein  looked  as  if  it  were  all  her  fault.  Afterwards, — a 
knot-hole  in  the  door  is  a  good  thing  after  all, — afterwards  I 
saw  them  stand  together  for  a  while  on  the  edge  of  the  forest. 
Now  she  comes  every  day  to  visit  her  deer,  but  she  scarcely 
looks  at  it,  and  talks  all  the  while  of  him ;  and  he  comes  every 
day  to  bandage  Ami's  wound,  which  is  of  no  consequence, 
and  I  must  tell  him  all  she  has  said.  She  comes  in  the 
morning,  and  he  towards  evening,  and  glad  enough  they 
would  be  to  meet.     Neither  of  them  has  yet  plucked  up  the 

heart  for  that,  but  it  will  come  all  in  good  time,  and  then 

Now  I  have  earned  your  gift.    Good-night,  Herr  Warne." 

At  this  sudden  conclusion,  Warne  started  as  from  a  dream. 
"  Elsbeth  !"  he  exclaimed,  but  she  was  gone.  With  the  speed 
of  lightning  her  little  brown  feet  tripped  through  the  luxu- 
riant heather  ;  on  the  edge  of  the  moor  she  turned  with  a 
mocking  laugh  that  showed  her  white  teeth  glistening  in  the 
moonlight,  and  beckoned  to  the  steward  to  follow  her.  No- 
thing would  have  induced  Warne  to  do  so ;  even  Ami  stood 
mournfully  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  while  Elsbeth,  seeming 
scarcely  to  touch  the  earth,  flew  over  the  marshy  ground  in  a 
fantastic  dance. 

The  moor  was  her  fortress,  her  garden,  her  home.  Thither 
11* 


12G  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

as  a  child  she  had  fled  from  the  blows  and  stones  of  the  vil- 
lage boys.  There  she  was  safe,  for  the  boldest  among  them 
dared  not  follow  her.  But  she  knew  every  foot  of  soil  in  her 
home,  every  dangerous  and  every  safe  spot ;  she  was  the  spirit 
of  the  desert  waste,  her  character  had  taken  its  colouring  from 
its  desolate  features  ;  she  should  have  been  called,  not  moor- 
land Els,  but  moorland  Elf 

The  oracle  which  the  steward  had  thus  consulted  gave  him 
food  for  thought.  Elsbeth's  revelations  accorded  wonderfully 
with  Beatrice's  behaviour  on  that  Friday  evening  ;  but  when 
he  reflected  upon  the  state  of  affairs  at  Buchdorf,  upon  Frau 
von  Arning's  detestation  of  Otto  and  her  evident  determina- 
tior  to  consider  Emil  von  Lindau  as  her  future  son-in-law,  he 
almost  uoubted  the  accuracy  of  Elsbeth's  powers  of  observa- 
tion. It  annoyed  him,  too,  that  she  had  so  easily  read  his 
thoughts ;  if  by  the  merest  chance  his  scheme  had  not  coin- 
cided with  her  own  views  his  position  would  have  been  lost. 

Thus  he  pondered  restlessly  untU  sleep  closed  his  eyelids, 
and  when  he  awoke  from  troubled  dreams  the  sun  v^s  high 
in  the  heavens.  The  doubts  of  the  previous  nigni,  still 
■weighed  heavily  upon  his  soul.  Vexed  and  wearied,  he 
opened  his  window  and  looked  out.  Before  him  lay  the  park 
in  all  the  dewy  freshness  of  morning,  and  the  bells  chiming 
softly  from  the  village  church  told  that  Sunday  had  come  in 
all  this  brilliant  splendour  of  earth  and  sky.  From  the  ter- 
race below,  he  caught  the  flutter  of  the  baroness's  light  dress 
beside  the  breakfast-table.  Crowds  of  hungry  doves,  crows, 
and  sparrows  were  perched  upon  the  boughs  of  the  trees  just 
beyond  the  terrace.  The  rogues  knew  well  enough  the  hour 
when  Beatrice  scattered  crumbs  for  them,  and  there  between 
the  beds  bright  with  stocks  and  asters  stood  the  beneficent 
fairy  herself,  in  her  pure  white  morning  dress  and  the  hat 
wreathed  with  water-lilies  which  had  aroused  Elsbeth's  envy. 
How  glad  and  gay  she  looked  !     How  merrily  she  laughed  at 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  127 

Herr  von  Lindau's  clumsy  attempts  to  skip  across  the  flower- 
beds to  meet  her  I    In  Warne's  eyes  she  seemed  an  angel  ol 
light  encircled  by  a  halo  of  peace  and  purity,  contrasted  with 
the   mocking  vision  of  the  night   flitting  in  the  moonlight 
across  the  desert  moorland. 

"And  that  lovely  creature  I  am  supposed  to  hate?"  ho 
nuittered  to  himself.  "  Brown  Elsie's  boasted  penetration  fails 
her  indeed  if  she  can  imagine  such  hatred  possible." 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Sunday  was  nearing  its  close  when  Otto  paid  his  daily  visit 
to  the  invalid  in  the  moorland  hut.  He  tied  his  horse  to  the 
crooked  birch-tree,  and  approached  Brown  Elsie,  who  was 
crouching  among  the  heather  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  while 
Ami,  at  a  short  distance,  was  cropping  his  evening  meal  from 
the  few  patches  of  grass  he  was  able  to  find.  Elsbeth  had 
propped  her  head,  now  adorned  with  a  garland  of  yellow  mari- 
golds, upon  both  hands,  and  her  large  eyes,  undimmed  by 
any  attention  to  reading  or  writing,  were  gazing  fixedly  at  the 
setting  sun,  that  hovered,  a  ball  of  dull  crimson  fire,  just  above 
the  horizon  of  the  moor. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Elsbeth  ?"  Arning  asked, 
kindly,  touching  her  shoulder  as  he  spoke. 

She  turned  at  his  touch  without  testifying  any  surprise, 
and  said,  in  the  dreamy,  vaguely  mysterious  way  peculiar  to  her 
at  times,  "  I  am  looking  at  the  sun.  They  say  it  is  now  going 
to  another  country,  called  America,  where  the  grain  grows  of 
itself,  and  no  one  need  strive  or  work  hard.  There  are  no  rich 
and  poor  there,  but  all  arc  equal  and  all  are  happy." 

The  baron  stood  surprised  at  her  reply.     "  ]My  poor  child, 


128  A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

who  put  that  into  your  head  ?"  he  asked.  "  There  is  hard 
work  eveiywhere,  and  want  and  misery  on  the  other  side  of 
the  eartli  as  well  as  here." 

She  shook  her  head  incredulously.  "  You  never  were 
there,"  she  said,  "  but  the  man  who  told  me  came  from  there, 
and  wanted  to  take  us  back  with  him,  years  ago,  when  we  were 
in  the  large  town  on  the  water.  He  was  a  very  grand  gentle- 
man, and  very  kind,  but  grandmother  would  not  go  with  him, 
although  I  wanted  to,  oh,  so  much  !" 

"  Your  fine  castles  in  the  air  would  have  been  lamentably 
destroyed,"  the  baron  rejoined.  "  And  be  sure,"  he  added, 
with  a  melancholy  smile,  "  that  any  one  who  means  honestly 
and  is  in  earnest  can  find  constant  occupation  in  any  country ; 
it  will  not,  it  is  true,  make  a  paradise  around  him,  but  it  will 
give  him  some  degree  of  content.  Remember  your  grand- 
mother, Elsie ;  you  must  stay  here  for  her  sake ;  she  is  old 
and  weak,  and  will  soon  be  entirely  dependent  upon  your 
care." 

Elsbeth  did  not  reply,  except  by  a  scornful  glance. 

Meanwhile,  Otto  had  unwound  the  bandage  from  the  limb 
of  the  wounded  deer. 

"^  Our  patient  is  nearly  well,"  he  said,  cheerfully.  "  Friiu- 
lein  von  Arning  will  be  very  grateful  to  you  for  the  care  you 
have  taken  of  Ami." 

Moorland  Elsie  dreamed  no  longer  ;  she  was  once  more  the 
same  mocking,  malicious  sprite  whom  the  steward  had  seen  on 
the  previous  night. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  drawled,  without  turning  her  eyes  from  the 
sun,  "  only — a  few  weeks  ago  she  would  have  been  more 
grateful  still." 

"  A  few  weeks  ago?"  Otto  repeated.  "What  do  you  mean 
by  that,  my  girl  ?" 

"  Oh,  everything  is  dificrent  when  one  has  a  sweet- 
heart  " 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  129 

The  deer  jumped  aside ;  his  physician  had  touched  the 
■wound  less  gently  than  usual,  but  Otto  possessed  enough  self- 
control  to  appear  indifferent. 

"  A  sweetheart?"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh.  "You  are 
dreaming,  Elsbeth !  Are  you  speaking  of  Friiulein  von  Arning?" 

"  If  it  is  a  secret,  I  will  keep  it,"  said  Elsbeth,  quite  inno- 
cently. "  You,  her  cousin,  of  course  know  that  she  is  betrothed 
to  Herr  von  Lindau.  I  saw  it  when  they  first  came  here  to- 
gether and  Ami  got  only  one  glance  for  every  three  bestowed 
upon  him.     Is  it  not  natural,  Herr  Baron  ?" 

Brown  Elsie  now  turned ;  the  last  glimmering  spark  of  the 
sun's  disk  had  vanished,  and  with  it  every  trace  of  cheerful- 
ness from  the  baron's  countenance. 

"  Yes,  perfectly  natural,"  he  replied,  mechanically.  "  I  see 
that  Ami  is  more  nearly  recovered  than  I  thought  possible. 
You  need  not  expect  me  for  the  next  few  days." 

Elsbeth  had  approached  the  deer.  She  now  stared  the 
baron  in  the  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  burst  into  an  insolent 
laugh. 

"  Els  !  Els  !"  her  grandmother's  shrill  voice  was  heard  call- 
ing from  the  hut.     Elsbeth  paid  no  heed,  but  laughed  on. 

Her  bold  merriment  grated  upon  the  baron.  He  put  a 
force  upon  himself  to  ask,  quietly,  "  What  amuses  you,  Els- 
beth?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  only  pleased.  They  are  such  a  handsome  couple, 
Herr  von  Lindau  and  the  young  Friiulein.  Do  you  not  think 
so,  Herr  Baron  ?" 

»  Doubtless Good-night,  Elsbeth." 

Arning  untied  his  horse  and  sprang  into  the  saddle.  The 
noble  animal  reared  and  curveted,  unaccustomed  to  feel  as 
now  both  whip  and  spur.  For  an  instant  it  stood  nearly 
upright  upon  its  hind  legs,  and  then  plunged  madly  into  the 
depths  of  the  forest,  where  horse  and  rider  were  instantly  lost 
to  sight. 


130  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"■  Els !  Els !  Curse  you,  girl,  do  you  not  hear  me  ?"  old 
Stina  screamed,  still  more  shrilly. 

"  I'm  coming,  granny,  I'm  coming,"  Elsbeth  at  last  deigned 
to  reply,  approaching  the  hut  sLpwly  and  loiteringly.  "  What 
is  it  ?"  she  asked,  looking  in  at  uie  little  window. 

"  Come  here !  come  in,  you "     And  a  flood  of  abuse 

followed. 

Elsbeth  leaned  with  both  arms  upon  the  window-sill  and 
screamed  in  chorus,  in  which  also  the  black  cat  joined,  for  hi-? 
young  mistress  had  unintentionally  thrust  him  from  his  seat. 

At  the  sound  of  her  favourite's  cries  the  old  woman  ceased 
scolding  with  a  gasp,  and  the  brown  imp  outside  scrambled  in 
at  the  window,  saying,  pettishly,  "  Here  I  am ;  and  now  talk 
sense,  if  you  want  an  answer." 

"  Why  do  you  not  come  when  your  feeble  old  grandmother 
calls?"  the  hag  asked,  coughing.  "  All  my  breath  has  gone. 
You  will  bring  me  to  my  grave.  And  all  because  of  the  crazy 
Ermsdaler  baron !  Have  I  not  his  proud  aunt  and  himself  too 
in  my  power  ?  Did  I  not  show  you  the  other  day  that  I  can 
treat  him  as  I  please  ?" 

"  He  has  small  reason  to  praise  my  kindness,"  Elsbeth 
observed,  maliciously.  "  But  no  matter  for  that.  I  like  the 
Herr  Baron,  and  you  shall  not  abuse  him." 

In  fact.  Otto's  bold,  commanding  manner  had  impressed  the 
girl  as  few  things  upon  earth  impressed  her.  Nevertheless, 
she  did  not  for  one  moment,  hesitate  to  give  him  pain  in  the 
gratification  of  her  hatred  of  the  Buchdorf  Fraulein,  and  in 
lier  love  of  intrigue  which  had  come  to  be  second  nature  to 
her. 

The  old  woman  lay  back  in  her  chair  bseathless  and  pant- 
ing ;  the  cat  jumped  up  in  her  lap. 

"  You  must  not  vex  me,  Els,"  she  groaned.  "I  am  a 
feeble  old  woman,  sick  too — this  cursed  cough, — but  I  am  not 
dying;   no,  no,  far  from  it,"  she  said,  with  energy,  sitting 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  131 

upright.  "Do  you  hear?  flir  from  it.  Do  not  think  it,  my 
girl.  The  doctor  is  a  fool  if  he  says  so.  Town  doctors  are 
always  fools.  And  he  did  not  say  that  I  was  dying,  either. 
Eh  ?  my  little  Els,  my  girl  of  gold  ;  he  did  not  say  that  ?" 

Elsbeth  shrugged  her  shoulders  in)patiently  and  sat  down 
upon  tlie  wooden  bench  by  the  window. 

''  I  shall  be  all  right  in  the  winter,"  the  old  woman  went  on. 
"  I  was  always  better  by  the  stove  than  out  in  the  sunshine. 
Dear,  dear  I  the  sun  has  set  already,  and  the  burgomaster's 
Lisbeth  is  coming  to-day.  Quick,  Els, — what  have  you  found 
out  about  her  and  Steffen?" 

"  A  great  deal,  granny,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  I  am  tired  of 
running  about  for  you  day  and  night,  that  you  may  make  the 
stupid  peasants  stare,  while  I  get  nothing  in  return.  In  three 
days  I  am  going  to  the  Ermsdal  '  Kirmess.'  I  want  money  for 
a  new  petticoat,  and  I  will  not  tell  you  a  word  unless  you  give 
nie  two  thalers." 

The  old  woman  uttered  a  cry  as  if  her  grandchild  had  struck 
her. 

"  Two  thalers  I"  she  repeated.  "  As  if  I  had  two  thalers  ! 
I  have  no  money,  Els.  Your  grandmother  is  a  poor  old 
beggar,  who  does  not  know  where  to  get  even  a  plate  of  potatoes 
for  your  daily  meal." 

"  Why  do  you  tell  me  such  nonsense  ?"  Elsbeth  said, 
peevishly.  "  I  suppose  you  thought  I  was  sleeping,  but  I  saw 
and  heard  too  the  other  night  when  you  were  counting  out 
the  gold  pieces  you  always  bring  from  Ermsdal."  And  going 
over  to  the  painted  box,  she  rattled  at  its  lid,  and  continued^ 
"  Here  in  this  chest  which  you  always  keep  fast  locked  you 
have  plenty  of  money." 

Her  words  threw  her  grandmother  into  another  rage.  She 
started  up,  brandishing  her  spindle  in  the  air  as  if  she  would 
have  felled  the  girl  to  the  earth. 

"Oho!"  Elsbeth  slowly  ejaculated.     "  The  times  are  past," 


132  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

and  her  eyes  flashed,  "  when  you  could  beat  me.  Have  a  care, 
granny !" 

The  withered  hand  dropped  the  spindle.  "  Cursed  brat," 
the  crone  hissed,  in  a  voice  stiflod  with  fury,  "  you  shall 
aot  anger  me,  or  I  shall  die ;  and  I  will  not  die !  Yes,  God 
of  heaven,"  she  cried,  raising  her  hands  in  a  kind  of  savage 
ecstasy,  "  you  are  just.  In  punishment  for  my  sins  you 
Iiave  cursed  my  old  age  with  this  devil  in  human  form  in  place 
of  a  loving  child " 

"Yes,  a  devil!"  Elsbeth  repeated;  "for  I  am  what  your 
blows  have  made  me  !     And  now  give  me  the  money  !" 

"  Yes,"  gasped  the  old  woman,  "  you  shall  have  the  money, 
Els  ;  but  it  will  bring  you  no  blessing." 

"Let  the  blessing  go;  but  be  quick!"  was  the  insolent 
reply. 

Mother  Stina  sank  back  into  her  chair,  and  drew  from  the 
chaos  of  folds  in  her  dress  a  worn  leather  purse,  whence  she 
began  to  count  out  in  pennies  and  groschen  the  sum  desired, 
moaning  as  she  did  so  so  piteously  that  the  black  cat  stopped 
licking  his  bruises  and  stared  compassionately  into  his  mis- 
tress's face. 

Elsbeth  negligently  took  the  money  and  counted  it  before 
she  began  to  tell  what  she  had  promised.  Scarcely  had  she 
spoken  the  first  words  when  there  was  heard  a  low,  peculiar 
tap  upon  the  door  of  the  hut,  and  her  grandmother  bade  her 
be  silent. 

"  Quick,  Els,"  she  whispered,  "  light  the  lamp  and  close  the 
shutters.  Then  open  the  door  and  go,  and  if  Lisbeth  comes 
say  I  am  not  at  home." 

The  girl  obeyed  the  first  part  of  this  command  without 
delay,  and  soon  the  feeble  rays  of  a  tallow  candle  mingled 
with  the  dying  light  of  day  within  the  hut ;  but  Elsbeth  did 
not  withdraw. 

"  I  know  very  well,"  she  said,  "  that  the  rats  are  waiting 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  133 

outside  for  the  paper  bait  wliicli  you  hang  out  every  year  for 
the  steward,  grandmother.  And  I  am  no  longer  a  child  to  be 
sent  out  of  the  way.  I  must  know  what  game  my  good  friend 
Warne  is  playing " 

"  Go,  Els,  go ;  you  cannot  stay  here,"  her  grandmother 
begged  her,  almost  gently. 

Elsbeth's  naked  foot  stamped  impatiently  upon  the  clay 
loor  of  the  hut.  "  I  shall  stay,"  she  replied,  defiantly.  "You 
do  not  know  what  I  am  about  with  the  steward.  Hush, 
j;;ranny !     I  shall  stay,  and  woe  to  you  if  you  betray  me  I" 

In  less  than  a  minute  the  girl  had  climbed  upon  the  high 
bed  and  drawn  the  curtains  close,  leaving  only  a  small  chink 
through  which  she  could  see  all  that  went  on  in  the  hut.  The 
crone  sighed  profoundly,  closed  the  window,  and  then  hobbled 
upon  her  crutch  to  the  door.  The  visitor,  whom  Mother 
Stina  i-eceived  with  a  low  curtsy,  was  a  bent,  shabbily-dressed 
individual,  muffled  past  all  recognition  in  cloak  and  wraps. 
When,  however,  the  door  was  closed  behind  him,  he  threw  his 
disguise  aside  and  stood  revealed  as  our  old  acquaintance  the 
usurer,  Moses  Aaron,  from  M . 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  took  his  leave,  a  folded  pai)er 
in  his  pocket,  and  Mother  Stina,  with  trembling  hands,  loosened 
a  stone  in  the  hearth  and  hid  beneath  it  a  packet  of  bank- 
notes. Elsbeth  never  betrayed  her  presence  by  the  slightest 
breath,  although  her  curiosity  reaped  a  richer  harvest  than 
she  had  hoped  for. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  at  stated  intervals,  two  other 

usurers  from  M presented  themselves,  and  were  received 

by  the  moorland  hag  in  the  same  manner.  At  ten  o'clock, 
however,  all  was  dark  and  still  in  the  hut.  The  window  stood 
wide  open,  and  the  moonlight  shone  full  upon  the  bed.  There 
lay  old  Stina,  her  breath  coming  quick  and  loud  in  uneasy 
slumber.  But  Elsbeth  stood  for  a  long  while  beside  the  sleep- 
ing crone,  her  delicate  brows  knit  in  a  gloomy  frown,  gazing 

12 


134  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

out  upon  the  moor,  beautiful,  menacing,  implacable,  like  an 
avenging  angel  by  the  bedside  of  a  dying  sinner. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Meanwhile,  Aunt  Bernhardine  was  sitting  in  her  black 
leathern  arm-chair,  beside  the  solitary  tallow  candle,  which 
was  all  that  she,  not  one  whit  more  extravagant  than  Mother 
Stina,  was  wont  to  burn.  Her  knitting  lay  in  her  lap,  and 
her  weary  head  was  sunk  upon  her  breast,  for  she  had  been, 
as  ever,  busy  since  the  dawn  of  day,  and  midnight  was  now 
not  far  distant.  She  had  a  piece  of  news  for  Otto,  and  would 
not  go  to  rest  without  seeing  him. 

She  heard  the  village  clock  strike  twelve,  and  soon  after- 
ward the  watch-dog  began  to  bark,  and  the  clatter  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  resounded  in  the  court-yard. 

The  canoness  listened.  She  heard  Otto  tap  with  his  riding- 
whip  on  the  window  of  the  hostler's  room  and  immediately 
afterwards  enter  the  house,  where,  contrary  to  his  custom,  he 
strode  past  the  sitting-room  and  went  directly  to  his  own 
apartment. 

Friiulein  von  Tretten  waited  a  moment  longer,  and  then, 
with  a  shake  of  her  head,  she  took  the  candle,  and  going  into 
the  hall  opened  the  door  and  descended  the  two  steps  that  led 
to  the  court-yard.  There  she  found  one  groom  leading  Otto's 
horse  up  and  down  to  cool,  and  another  standing  by,  sleepy 
and  yawning,  while  the  red  light  of  a  stable-lantern  contended 
feebly  with  the  silver  rays  of  the  moon.  Usually  when  Otto 
returned  thus  late  he  quietly  led  his  horse  to  the  stable  him- 
self, without  arousing  the  men. 

"  What,"  the  canoness  asked  herself,  "  was  the  use  of  his 
wakening  these  men,  who  need  all  the  sleep  they  can  get  to 
make  them  fit  for  the  morrow's  work  ?' ' 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Philip  ?"  she  said,  aloud,  holding 
her  hand  before  the  flame  of  her  candle. 

"  Willthe  Fraulein  only  take  the  trouble  to  look  at  Castor?" 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  135 

one  of  the  men  replied,  pointing  to  the  horse,  which  was 
covered  with  foam.  "  One  half-hour  longer,  and  there  would 
have  been  little  use  in  leading  him  up  and  down.  I  don't 
know  what  the  matter  is.  The  Herr  Baron  usually  takes 
such  good  care  of  his  horses ;  we  never  are  allowed  to  overweight 
them  ;  and  just  look  at  this  !     Where  can  he  have  been  ?" 

"  That  is  no  affair  of  yours,"  the  canoness  said,  severely, 
turning  towards  the  house  again.  "  See  that  the  horse  takes 
no  harm,  and  be  quiet." 

She  was  quite  above  allowing  the  servants  to  discuss  their 
master's  conduct  in  her  presence,  but  she  lacked  the  delicacy 
of  feeling  which  would  have  granted  him  the  solitude  that  he 
so  evidently  desired.  What  she  had  to  tell  also  goaded  her  ; 
there  is  for  many  of  us  a  strange  charm  in  the  telling  of  a 
piece  of  unpleasant  news.  Therefore  she  slowly  ascended  the 
stairs  and  opened  the  door  of  Otto's  study.  It  was  dark  and 
empty.  She  crossed  the  little  room  and  knocked  at  the  oppo- 
site door :  no  answer.  She  laid  her  hand  upon  the  latch :  the 
door  was  locked. 

"  Otto  !"  she  cried,  impatiently. 

"  Good-night,  aunt,"  came  by  way  of  reply. 

But  the  canoness  was  not  to  be  thus  repulsed.  "  What 
does  this  mean  ?"  she  asked,  half  in  anger,  half  in  entreaty. 
"  You  have  been  galloping  about  the  woods  until  midnight, 
and  have  not  come  in  to  see  me.  Your  horse  is  in  a  dreadful 
condition.  What  is  the  matter  ?  If  anything  has  happened, 
tell  me  what  it  is.  Do  not  keep  up  this  perpetual  reserve ! 
Answer  me.  Otto  I  You  are  not  ill?"  she  added,  when  Otto 
still  kept  silent. 

"  I  am  not  ill,"  Arning  answered,  at  last,  "  and  nothing 
extraordinary  has  happened ;  but  I  pray  you,  my  dear  aunt, 
excuse  me  for  to-day ;  I  am  very  tired.  To-morrow  I  will  talk 
with  you  as  long  as  you  please." 

The  canoness  looked  searchingly  around  for  fear  of  listeners, 


136  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

and  then  said  to  licr  nophew,  in  an  undertone,  "  Tannen  has 
been  here  with  some  bad  news.  Will  you  wait  until  to-mor- 
row to  hear  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  !"  wearily  ;  "  speak." 

"  I  can  hardly  credit  it,  but  he  asserts  that  Beatrice  is  to  be 
betrothed  to  a  Herr  von  Lindau,  a  mere  boy,  twenty-one  years 
of  age,  whom  her  mother  has  in  training  for  her." 

"  She  is  betrothed  to  him." 

"  Is  betrothed !"  Aunt  Bernhardine  repeated.  "  Already  ? 
Oh,  now  I  understand  it  all.  Indeed  you  have  good  cause  for 
anxiety,  my  poor  Otto.  If  this  be  so  the  property  is  lost 
forever !'' 

The  canoness  heard  her  nephew  spring  up  impatiently. 
"  The  property  1"  he  exclaimed,  passionately.  "  The  property  I 
I  pray  you  to  leave  me  in  peace,  Aunt  Bernhardine !" 

Involuntarily  she  retreated  from  the  door.  "  Good  heavens. 
Otto,  be  reasonable !"  she  said  ;  "  I  cannot  mean  to  trouble 
you.  Surely  I  have  given  proof  sufficient  that  I  have  your 
welfare  more  at  heart  than  my  own.  It  cannot  be  my  fault 
that  Buchdorf  is  lost  to  you." 

And  she  left  the  room,  not  indeed  to  sleep, — this  confirma- 
tion of  her  worst  forebodings  affected  her  too  deeply.  In  the 
chamber  above  her  own  she  heard  the  baron  pace  to  and  fro 
the  whole  night  long.  There  was  no  repose  for  him  either. 
In  the  few  hours  that  had  elapsed  since  Elsbeth's  malicious 
announcement  he  had  probed  the  depths  of  his  heart  as  never 
before  during  the  long  sixteen  years  of  apparent  calm — the 
calm  of  frozen  waters — spent  at  Ermsdal.  Had  he  not  always 
attributed  the  cold  indifference  with  which  upon  his  visits  to 
the  capital  he  had  regarded  all  women,  even  the  most  lovely, 
to  the  bitter  experiences  of  his  youth  that  had  robbed  him 
forever  of  the  capacity  for  affection  ?  Now  he  knew  that  it 
was  the  imperishable  image  of  a  child — a  mere  child — that  had 
made  any  later  impression  upon  his  heart  impossible ;  a  child, 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  137 

too,  whom  he  had  treated  with  but  scant  kindness,  and  had 
imagined  he  could  hate.  Elsbeth's  words  had  dissipated  the 
carefully  guarded  il'usion  of  years. 

"  Good  God !"  he  groaned,  "  must  this  girl  drag  me 
through  every  phase  of  mortal  anguish  ?  One  blessing,  how- 
ever, is  the  result  of  this  alienation,"  he  continued,  pursuing 
another  train  of  thought,  "  I  shall  not,  as  her  guardian,  be 
forced  myself  to  place  her  hand  in  that  of  another." 

By  degrees  he  grew  calmer.  In  the  heart  beating  within 
these  four  walls  how  many  a  bitter  conflict  had  raged, — con- 
flicts never  dreamed  of  by  those  who  saw  the  grave,  silent 
man  steadfastly  engaged  in  the  performance  of  each  day's 
task. 

When  the  first  dawn  of  day  appeared  through  his  uncur- 
tained windows  the  baron  hurriedly  chang  d  his  dress,  and 
half  an  hour  afterwards  he  was  in  the  court-yard,  giving 
orders  for  the  day  to  the  throng  of  labourers  and  servants. 
No  one  noticed  any  alteration  in  his  demeanour,  no  one 
guessed  that  he  had  just  consigned  to  oblivion  the  fiiirest 
vision  of  his  life, — tha  last  of  his  youth.  Aunt  Bernhardine 
alone  believed  that  she  understood  him,  and  could  not  com- 
prehend why  Otto,  who  knew  how  thoroughly  she  shared  hia 
grief,  should  never  by  a  single  word  refer  to  the  conversation 
of  the  previous  night. 


12* 


138  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  morning  of  Herr  von  Tannen's  dinner  had  arrived,  a 
fnir,  sunny  September  morning.  Frau  von  Arning,  in  com- 
pliance with  her  daughter's  urgent  entreaties,  had  consented  to 
be  present,  and  she  was,  it  can  readily  be  understood,  looking 
forward  with  a  certain  degree  of  agitation  to  meeting  the 
relative  whom  she  both  dreaded  and  hated. 

Beatrice,  no  less  although  more  agreeably  agitated,  spent 
the  morning  in  her  room.  The  steward  was  busy  in  the  court- 
yard. The  only  person  entirely  at  ease  on  this  day  was  Herr 
von  Lindau,  who  sat  in  one  of  the  wide-windowed  recesses  of 
the  drawing-room,  covering  a  light  wooden  fan  of  the  young 
baroness's  with  blue  dots,  which  Beatrice  laughingly  assured 
him  might  really,  with  the  assistance  of  a  brilliant  imagination, 
pass  for  forget-me-nots.  A  servant  announced  that  the  carriage 
was  in  readiness,  and  Beatrice  made  her  appearance  in  a  rich 
dress  of  delicate  pink  silk,  with  diamonds  about  her  throat, 
on  her  arms,  and  in  her  chestnut  hair.  By  a  tacit  agreement 
iipon  the  subject  of  the  toilet  between  mother  and  daughter, 
the  latter  wore  simple  muslins  except  upon  festal  occasions 
like  the  present,  and  then  she  consented  to  gratify  Theresa's 
maternal  pride  by  appearing  in  all  the  magnificence  of  the 
heiress. 

As  she  entered,  Herr  von  Lindau  arose,  and  with  a  well- 
turned  compliment  presented  her  with  the  fan  which  he  had 
just  completed.  The  maid  packed  the  carriage  with  plaids  and 
wraps,  parasols  and  umbrellas,  and  Frau  von  Arning  urged 
every  one  to  haste  and  saw  that  nothing  was  forgotten.  At 
last  the  ladies  took  their  places,  and  Lindau  insisted   upon 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  139 

driving  and  yielding  his  place  inside  the  barouche  to  Hcrr 
Warne. 

Theresa  was  prevailed  upon  to  consent.  Warne  took  his 
place  opposite  her  upon  the  back  seat,  while  the  young  officer 
triumphantly  took  the  reins. 

For  a  while  all  went  well.  Beatrice  complimented  the  guest 
upon  his  unexpected  skill,  and  Frau  von  Arniug  conquered 
her  fears  .sufficiently  to  take  out  the  newspapers  which  were  to 
furnish  amuseuicnt  during  the  long  drive.  Beatrice  also  took 
up  a  paper,  urA  Warne  diligently  scanned  the  fields  on  either 
side  of  the  read. 

Thus  about  ?.a  hour  passed.  The  carriage  was  just  ascend- 
ing quite  a  steep  hill,  when  Beatrice,  pointing  to  an  article  in 
her  paper,  exclaimed,  "  Mamma,  did  you  know  that  Ilerr  von 
Arning  was  a  famous  physician  ?" 

"  At  least  I  knew  that  he  studied  medicine  for  a  long  time," 
Theresa  replied,  with  a  shrug.  She  had  just  succeeded  in 
banishing  the  coming  meeting  from  her  mind,  and  it  was 
exceedingly  unpleasant  to  have  it  thus  recalled. 

"  Yes,  but  he  has  become  famous,"  Beatrice  peisisted. 
"  Just  read  the  praises  lavished  here  upon  one  of  his  medical 
essays  ;  it  has  gained  a  prize." 

"  Really,  Beatrice,"  her  mother  coldly  interrupted  her,  "  I 
cannot  see  what  possible  interest  HeiT  von  Arning's  medical 
capacity  can  possess  for  us." 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear  mother,  but  his  medical  capacity 
seems  to  me  to  be  the  very  thing  which  should  interest  us," 
F3eatrice  eagerly  rejoined.  She  spoke  hurriedly,  and  her 
cheeks  glowed.  "  You  have  often  told  me  how,  during  your 
stay  in  Italy  with  papa,  Herr  von  Arning  took  every  pos- 
sible means,  short  of  open  violence,  to — well,  yes,  I  can  find 
no  other  word  for  it — to  bring  about  my  death.  Still,  while 
ho  was  in  Euchdorf  I  rob  only  did  not  decline  in  health, 
but  I  grew  perfectly  well ;  and  certainly,  if  he  is  so  skil- 


140  A   FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

ful  a  physician,  that  cannot  have  taken  place  against  his 
will." 

The  steward  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  Theresa  held  her 
haughty  head  erect,  but  the  reproof  she  would  have  uttered 
died  upon  her  lips  in  a  cry  of  terror. 

The  carriage  had  meanwhile  reached  the  summit  of  the 
hill,  and  Lindau,  whose  attention  was  entirely  absorbed  by  the 
conversation  behind  him,  was  thoughtless  enough  to  allow  the 
horses  to  begin  the  descent  of  the  steep  declivity  at  a  brisk 
trot,  which  naturally  soon  became  a  rapid  gallop.  Theresa's 
scream  first  reminded  Emil  of  what  he  was  doing,  and  then,  to 
repair  his  error,  he  tugged  so  furiously  at  the  reins  that  the 
foam  upon  the  poor  animals'  bits  was  soon  flecked  with  blood, 
and  they  grew  wild  with  fright. 

Frau  von  Arning,  half  fainting  with  terror,  clung  to  the 
cushions  of  the  carriage,  but  Beatrice  sprang  up,  her  eyes 
flashing — not  with  fear,  the  road  was  perfectly  good,  and  be- 
gides  she  was  used  to  tearing  down  hill  in  her  pony-wagon 
when  her  mother  was  not  with  her, — but  she  could  not  bear  to 
see  her  favourites  so  cruelly  ill-treated. 

"  Loosen  the  reins,  Herr  von  Lindau,"  she  cried,  imperiously, 
in  a  voice  trembling  with  anger. 

But  the  steward,  with  much  coolness,  clambered  in  an 
instant  upon  the  box,  and,  pushing  the  young  baron  aside 
without  ceremony,  seized  the  reins.  The  horses  instantly 
recognized  the  accustomed  hand,  and  Theresa  was  partially  re- 
assured, although  of  course  the  carriage  could  not  be  imme- 
diately stopped. 

At  last,  however,  they  reached  the  valley,  and  all  descended 
for  a  while  to  recover  from  the  fright  they  had  experienced. 
Lindau  humbly  ofiered  his  arm  to  Theresa,  but  she  read 
the  repentant  sinner  such  a  severe  lecture  that  he  slipped 
away  and  meekly  stood  by  Beatrice,  who  was  standing  petting 
the  tired  horses  and  feeding  them  with  the  sugar  she  always 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  141 

provided  for  Herr  von  Tannen's  macaw.  The  poor  young 
fellow  was  scarcely  better  received  in  this  quarter.  In  fact, 
the  only  contented  member  of  the  party  was  Herr  Warne. 

"  These  last  ten  minutes,"  he  reflected  in  high  glee,  "  have 
lost  this  exemplary  young  baron  more  ground  in  the  estimation 
of  the  lovely  heiress  than  he  can  regain  in  six  months.  The 
Frilulein  is  almost  fonder  of  animals  than  of  our  noble  human 
kind.  She  will  not  soon  forgive  him  the  blood  on  tho.*.e 
horses'  bits." 

After  a  short  rest  they  took  the  road  again,  and  soon  came 
in  sight  of  the  comfortable  old  mansion  of  Wingen.  Theresa 
involuntarily  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart,  and  could  not  re- 
frain from  saying,  "  Indeed  I  should  be  glad  if  something  at 
the  last  moment  prevented  Otto  von  Arning  from  coming  to 
this  dinner." 

"But  why,  mamma  dear?"  asked  Beatrice.  "I  would 
venture  to  wager  that  our  cousin  will  meet  you  with  all  the 
courtesy  you  could  desire." 

"  By  your  leave,  Fraulein  von  Arning,  that  seems  to  me  by 
no  means  certain,"  the  steward  remarked,  looking  over  his 
shoulder  from  the  box  where  he  was  seated.  He  knew  that 
his  words  harmonized  with  Theresa's  thoughts,  and  this  em- 
boldened him.  "  The  Herr  Baron  can  no  more  than  yourself 
have  forgotten  what  has  happened,  and  it  is,  besides,  hardly  to 
be  expected  that  sixteen  years'  of  struggle  for  daily  bi'cad,  in 
constant  and  familiar  intercourse  with  peasants  and  labourers, 
will  have  made  his  manner  more  courteous  than  it  used  to  be." 

"  A  struggle  for  daily  bread?"  Beatrice  repeated,  incredu- 
lously. "  You  exaggerate  unpardonably,  Herr  Warne.  You 
will  shortly  tell  me,  I  suppose,  that  Cousin  Otto  was  in  danger 
of  starving." 

"  And  if  I  did,  it  would  not  be  very  wide  of  the  truth," 
the  steward  replied,  calmly.  "  HeiT  von  Arning  not  only  in- 
habited a  crumbling  ruin,  as  you  well  know,  Frliuleiu  Beatrice, 


142  A   FA  MIL r  FEUD. 

but  I  have  learned  from  credible  witnesses  that  in  the  firet 
years  of  his  residence  at  Ermsdal  he  frequently  scarcely  had 
a  piece  of  dry  bread  for  supper.  Madame  your  mother  will 
confirm  what  I  say." 

"  Most  certainly,"  Theresa  negligently  remarked. 

Beatrice  stared  at  her  mother  in  wide-eyed  amazement. 
Horror  made  her  lips  mute,  but  her  heart  cried  out  all  the 
louder,  "  Starve  1  he  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  and  while  we  were 
rolling  in  luxury!" 

The  fact  which  the  baroness  had  confirmed  as  a  matter  of 
course  seemed  to  the  girl  so  monstrous  that  her  mind  almost 
refused  to  credit  it. 

The  carriage  turned  into  the  Wingen  court-yard  and  drew 
up  before  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  hall  door.  Lili  von 
Tannen,  with  her  elder  sister,  stood  upon  the  threshold  to  wel- 
come the  new  arrivals,  and  overwhelmed  Beatrice  with  gay 
caresses  as  she  took  off  her  hat  and  light  wrap,  but  Beatrice 
could  not  reply  in  kind  to  her  friend's  merry  banter.  The 
words  "  he  might  have  starved"  seemed  burned  into  her  very 
soul.  And  how  coldly,  how  indifferently  it  had  been  spoken 
of  by  people  who  still  added  to  his  misery  by  accusing  him  of 
a  crime  which  he  perhaps — no,  which  he  certainly  never  had 
committed.  She  was  ashamed  of  her  costly  dress,  the  rustling 
of  her  silken  skirt  annoyed  her,  and  when  she  was  alone  with 
her  mother  in  the  dressing-room  to  which  her  young  friends 
conducted  her,  she  hastily  took  the  diamond  stars  from  her 
hair,  slipped  off  her  bracelets,  and  concealed  the  diamond 
locket,  which  she  would  not  take  off  because  it  contained 
her  father's  hair,  among  the  folds  of  the  tulle  that  she  wore 
about  her  neck.  Then  she  entered  the  drawing-room  at  her 
mother's  side  with  downcast  eyes  and  beating  heart. 

In  the  mean  while  Herr  von  Tannen,  from  the  window  of 
his  own  private  sanctum,  saw  one  carriage  after  another  roll 
up  to  the  door.     He  had  carried  Arning  off  to  this  retreat 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  143 

of  his  immediately  upon  his  arrival,  and  was  discussing  indif- 
ferent matters  with  him  until  finally  he  began :  "  My  dear 
fellow,  before  our  little  festivity  begins  I  must  make  a  confes- 
sion to  you.  Frau  von  Arning  has  yielded  to  the  entreaties 
of  her  daughter,  whom  no  human  being  can  withstand,  and 
has  accepted  my  invitation." 

A  gleam  of  delight  flashed  across  Otto's  features.  "  To 
Beatrice's  entreaties?"  he  repeated. 

"  Yes  ;  the  little  witch  reminded  her  mother  that  it  would 
be  impossible  always  to  avoid  meeting  you,  if  you  were  re- 
solved to  re-enter  society." 

His  usual  expression  of  melancholy  gravity  settled  again 
upon  the  baron's  face. 

"  That  was  her  reason,  then,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Well, 
the  young  lady  is  perfectly  right  to  advise  that  what  must  be 
done  be  done  quickly.  And  indeed  I  do  not  in  the  least 
dread  this  meeting,  Tannen  ;  I  am  prepared  for  it." 

The  repose  of  manner  which  characterized  Otto's  utterance 
of  these  sentiments  was  so  different  from  the  morbid  irrita- 
bility which  he  was  wont  to  display  at  any  mention  of  his  rela- 
tives, that  Tannen  looked  dubiously  at  him  for  a  moment  be- 
fore he  felt  sufficiently  reassured  to  exclaim,  in  a  hopeful  tone, 
"  Are  you  in  earnest,  Otto  ?  Oh,  if  you  are  !  If  I  could  only 
enjoy  the  delight  of  seeing  my  two  dearest  friends  clasp  hands 
in  amity  beneath  my  roof!" 

Otto  shook  his  head,  with  a  sad  smUe.  "  You  dream,  Tannen," 
he  replied.  "  There  can  be  no  amity  between  us.  I  know 
what  words  are  on  your  lips,"  he  went  on,  with  a  deprecatory 
gesture,  "  but  do  not  utter  them.  You  know  me  too  well  not 
to  be  aware  that  the  old  hatred,  the  old  desire  for  revenge,  no 
longer  lives  within  me.  I  should  not  oppose  a  reconciliation. 
I  have  long  felt  how  unhappy  was  the  destiny  that  drove 
me  to  floe  the  woman  who  was  my  accuser.  Frau  von  Arning 
could  not  but  act  as  she  did :  if  she  was  over-hasty,  it  was  I 


144  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

who  provoked  her  to  be  so.  My  rancour  towards  her  is  long 
since  dead,  for  I  see  in  her  not  the  cause  of  my  unhappy  fat€, 
but  its  tool.  Therefore  a  meeting  with  Frau  von  Arning  has 
no  terrors  for  me.  But  it  is  not  so  with  her ;  she  regards  me 
as  her  child's  murderer :  that  no  mother  can  forgive." 

Greatly  touched,  the  vivacious  little  man  shook  his  head  at 
this  unexpected  declaration.  "  How  changed  you  are,  my 
dear  Otto  !"  he  said.  "  I  need  not  tell  you  how  this  gentle  judg- 
ment of  your  enemies  raises  you  in  my  estimation;  but,  to 
speak  frankly,  I  had  not  expected  it  of  you." 

"  Because  you  took  the  utterances  of  a  morbid  state  of  mind 
for  the  expression  of  my  genuine  opinion,"  Otto  replied,  with 
a  smile.  "  But  no  more  of  this  :  the  day  was  to  be  devoted  to 
pleasure.     What  carriage  is  that  just  driving  up  the  avenue?" 

"  It  is  Frau  von  Arning's,  and  that  scoundrel  Warne  is  on 
the  box !  I  had  to  invite  him  for  the  baroness's  sake,  but  if 
the  fellow  had  understood  German — that  is,  polite  German — 
he  would  have  stayed  where  he  was.  Come,  the  Buchdorfers  are 
the  last,"  the  old  baron  concluded,  turning  to  Otto.  "  Why, 
I  thought  you  were  perfectly  calm,"  he  added,  noticing  his 
sudden  pallor. 

"  I  am  calm,"  his  friend  assured  him. 

"  Then  come  to  the  window,  instead  of  remaining  so  in  the 
background.  Look  at  my  little  godchild  Beatrice,  and  tell 
me  if  any  mortal  breathing  could  refuse  a  request  from  those 
lovely  lips." 

Otto  obeyed,  and  without  betraying  the  slightest  emotion 
watched  the  ladies  Von  Arning  descend  from  the  coach.  Tan- 
nen  watched  him  in  turn. 

"  You  stand  there  as  stiff  and  straight  as  my  old  yew- 
tree,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  Verily,  Otto,  I  admire  you  !  Were  I 
your  age, — but  I  forget, — Beatrice  is  not  after  your  taste  ;  as 
a  child  you  never  thought  her  pretty.  Come  to  the  drawing- 
room,  and  let  us  have  this  meeting  over  as  soon  as  possible." 


A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  145 

When  Frau  von  Arning  entered  the  reception-room  she 
scanned  in  a  kind  of  dread  the  different  groups  of  people  col- 
lected there,  but  without  discovering  her  cousin.  She  had 
never  pictured  Otto  to  herself  other  than  she  remembered  him 
in  the  stormy  interview  she  had  had  with  him  years  before  at 
Buchdorf,  and  was  almost  startled  when  a  man  of  grave,  digni- 
fied presence  appeared  beside  Baron  von  Tannen,  and  in  a  few 
courteous  words  of  greeting,  without  any  reference  whatever 
to  the  past,  easily  helped  her  to  conquer  her  embarrassment. 
A  weight  fell  from  her  heart,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  felt  grateful  to  her  cousin. 

The  conversation  was  not  prolonged,  consisting  as  it  did  of 
the  exchange  of  a  few  conventional  phrases,  and  Beatrice  took 
no  part  in  it. 

When  Frau  von  Arning  joined  the  hostess,  Lindau  thought 
it  time  to  recall  himself  to  the  baron's  remembrance,  and  to 
confirm  an  acquaintance  which  both  his  major  and  his  mamma 
thought  so  desirable.  He  had  been  standing  hitherto  in  a  win- 
dowed recess  with  Warne,  and  when  he  approached  Otto  the 
steward  accompanied  him.  They  had  been  in  a  measure  left 
to  themselves,  Lindau  being  as  yet  a  stranger  in  a  society 
where  Warne  could  never  be  anything  else,  being  admitted  to 
it  only  upon  sufferance. 

When  Emil,  after  a  few  words  of  self-introduction,  held  out 
his  hand  to  Von  Arning,  Warne,  with  matchless  insolence,  did 
the  same  ;  but  Otto  so  entirely  ignored  both  the  hand  and  its 
owner,  while  he  talked  frankly  and  courteously  with  Lindau, 
that  there  was  no  course  possible  for  the  steward  but  to  with- 
draw. 

This  little  scene  aroused  the  young  officer's  curiosity,  and 
with  boyish  want  of  tact  he  asked  Von  Arning  what  induced 
him  to  treat  the  steward  with  such  contempt. 

With  less  reserve  than  was  his  wont  with  strangers,  Otto 
replied,  haughtily,  "  I  never  give  my  hand  to  a  scoundrel  I 
Q  13 


146  ^   FAMILY  FEUD. 

Pardon  me,  Ilcrr  von  Lindau,"  he  said,  interrupting  himself, 
"  I  trust  he  is  not  a  friend  of  yours." 

"  A  friend  of  mine  ?"  the  officer  said,  with  a  laugh.  "  God 
forbid  !  What  could  suggest  such  an  idea  to  you,  Ilerr  Baron  ? 
A  miserable  parvenu  !  His  father  was,  I  think,  an  old-clothes 
dealer  in  Konigsberg.  But  I  confess  I  am  curious  to  know 
what  disgraceful  act  the  man  has  beerw  guilty  of  He  seems  to 
be  accounted  honest  by  the  people  about  here." 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  and  I  have  no  talent  for  narration," 
Otto  replied.  "  But  any  old  gossip  in  the  country  round  can 
ac(juaint  you  with  the  follies  and  misfortunes  of  our  family, 
and  with  the  part  that  fellow  has  played  in  them." 

The  dinner  was  very  much  like  other  large  dinners,  quiet 
and  rather  formal  during  the  first  courses,  pleasant  and  lively 
when  the  wine  had  circulated.  At  last  the  coffee  was  served, 
and  the  young  people  strayed  about  the  front  lawn,  while  their 
elders  were  engaged  in  conversation  in  the  drawing-room. 
Tannen  scarcely  left  Otto's  side ;  he  watched  him  as  a  father 
would  a  sensitive  child.  Of  couree  the  younger  people  could 
not  but  exchange  many  a  whispered  remark  upon  the  unac- 
customed guest,  whom  they  had  regarded  as  a  kind  of  hermit. 

Frau  von  Arning  was  also,  and  very  naturally,  the  subject 
of  much  remark.  Her  long  absence,  and  the  guest  whom  she 
had  brought  to  Buchdorf  with  her,  furnished  inexhaustible 
stuff  for  conversation.  She  was  obliged  to  hear  a  certain 
amount  of  banter  addressed  to  herself  with  regai'd  to  her  prob- 
able son-in-law,  which,  however,  she  endured  with  great  good 
humour,  acknowledging  frankly  that  the  connection  would  not 
bo  disagreeable  to  her,  but  declaring  that  since  the  young 
people  themselves  were  principally  concerned  in  the  matter  she 
should  not  stir  a  finger  to  influence  their  desires.  All  that 
she  said  was  so  sensible  and  just  that  Otto,  who  could  not 
refrain  from  observing  his  enemy  narrowly,  admitted  to  him- 
self that  he  a^rreed  witli  her.     And  now  that  he  saw  her  with 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  147 

the  unprejudiced  eyes  of  sixteen  added  years,  Theresa  looked 
handsomer  to  him  than  when  Kurt  von  Arning  had  brought 
her  to  Buchdorf  nineteen  years  before. 

Tannen  had  just  proposed  a  walk  through  the  park  when 
Fraulein  von  Arning  entered.  She  looked  a  little  pale,  and 
admitted,  in  reply  to  her  mother's  anxious  inquiries,  that  she 
had  a  headache.  The  baroness  seemed  much  distressed.  As 
soon  a.*  the  least  ailment  attacked  her  child  all  else  was  for- 
gaJLdn,  even  the  conventional  formalities  she  usually  estimated 
so  highly.  She  would  have  gone  immediately  home,  that 
Doctor  Norden  might  be  sent  for.  Beatrice  had  some  trouble 
in  persuading  her  to  relinquish  this  intention. 

"  Do  not  send  for  Doctor  Norden,"  she  begged.  "  If  I  need 
a  prescription  for  a  slight  headache,  I  am  sure  Herr  von  Arning 

will  be  kind  enough "    And  as  she  spoke  she  looked  half 

shyly,  half  confidingly,  towards  Otto.  "  But,"  she  added, 
hastily,  not  giving  Otto  time  to  express  his  readiness  to  be  of 
service,  "  I  really  need  nothing  but  half  an  hour's  rest.  If  my 
dear  godpapa  will  dispense  with  my  society  upon  his  walk  and 
let  me  play  invalid  here  for  a  little  while,  I  will  rival  Lili  in 
the  dance  this  evening. 

Fraulein  von  Tannen  offered  to  stay  with  her  friend,  but 
this  Beatrice  would  not  hear  of.  She  was,  therefore,  installed 
in  a  little  morning-room  adjoining  the  drawing-room.  Lili 
arranged  a  deep  arm-chair  for  her  beside  a  table  covered  with 
books,  carefully  closed  the  windows,  and,  placing  a  fan  and 
vinaigrette  within  reach,  left  her  to  rejoin  her  other  guests. 

As  soon  as  Beatrice  was  left  alone  she  took  from  the  table 
a  large  book,  almost  too  heavy  for  her  little  hands,  and  began 
to  turn  over  the  leaves.  It  contained,  as  she  knew,  the 
photographs  of  the  baronial  mansions  of  the  surrounding 
country. 

She  turned  page  after  page,  looking  for  Ermsdal,  and  soon 
found  the  bare,  rude  tower.     Then  she  tried  to  remember  the 


148  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

aspect  of  the  interior,  and  searched  for  Buclidorf,  that  she 
might  compare  the  two  structures.  How  spacious  and  lux- 
urious was  her  home  in  comparison  with  her  cousin's  dreary 
habitation  !  Thus  she  sat  dreaming  until  the  sun  had  nearly 
set,  and  steps  approaching  the  door  aroused  her.  She  looked 
up.  Otto  stood  upon  the  threshold.  He  had  returned  among 
the  first  from  the  walk,  and,  unacquainted  with  the  topography 
of  the  house,  had  opened  the  door  by  mistake.  Uttering  a 
hurried  excuse,  he  was  about  to  withdraw,  but  Beatrice  called 
him  back.  "  Oh,  pray  come  in,  Herr  von  Arning.  You  ought 
to  inquire  after  your  patient.  But  indeed  that  is  not  the 
reason,"  she  added,  gravely,  as  Otto  obeyed  her  invitation, 
"  why  I  beg  you  to  remain.  I  feel  quite  well  again,  and  I 
long  to  thank  you  for  Ami's  recovery.  I  should  have  done 
it  before,"  she  went  on,  hesitating,  "  but  mamma — you  must 
not  be  angry,  I  really  have  never  had  an  opportunity  to  tell 
mamma  how  I  met  you — she  is  not  kindly  disposed  towards 
you,  and  so " 

There  was  an  enchanting  grace  in  this  frank  avowal.  Otto 
bent  over  the  hand  which  Beatrice  extended  to  him,  and 
pressed  it  to  his  lips.  The  crimson  upon  her  cheek  deepened, 
and  she  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  but  he  replied, — 

"  I  wish  the  baroness  could  but  conquer  her  personal 
antipathy  towards  me  as  completely,  Friiulein  von  Arning,  as 
yoa  have  been  able  to  overcome  your  dread  of  Brown  Elsie, 
who  can  now  boast  a  degree  of  confidence  reposed  in  her  by 
you  which  you  apparently  accord  to  none  of  your  equals  in 
birth." 

He  had  never  intended  to  touch  upon  this  subject;  but  when 
he  saw  Beatrice  thus  in  all  her  enchanting  loveliness,  and  was 
at  the  same  moment  conscious  that  he  had  no  right  even  to 
establish  his  claim  to  relationship  with  this  girl,  whom  he 
loved  with  an  intensity  of  which  the  foolish  boy  whom  she 
was  to  marry  could  not  form  an  idea,  he  was  possessed  by  an 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  149 

angry  pain,  which  for  the  moment  would  have  led  him,  if  he 
could,  to  pain  Beatrice  in  her  turn. 

"  And  pray  what  confidence  have  I  reposed  in  that  strange 
creature?"  Beatrice  asked,  with  unaffected  surprise. 

"  Must  I  tell  you  ?  The  fact  of  your  betrothal  to  your 
mother's  guest,  Friiulein  von  Arning.  You  seem  amazed,  in- 
dignant ;  I  hope  I  have  not  been  the  means  of  injuring  the 
poor  child  in  your  eyes." 

"  I  betrothed  ?"  Beatrice  cried,  when  she  had  sufficiently 
recovered  from  the  shock  Von  Arning's  words  had  caused  her. 
"  Wliat  a  detestable  invention  of  Elsbeth's  !  And  to  Ilerr  von 
Lindau  ?  I  assure  you,  Herr  von  Arning,  it  is  not  and  never 
can  be  true  1    Why  do  you  smile  ?"  she  asked,  imperiously. 

"  Forgive  me.  Your  kind  declaration,  which  I  had  not  the 
least  right  to  require,  leaves  no  room  for  doubt.  Only  you 
must  not  be  angry  with  poor  Elsie,  whose  eyes  were  her  in- 
formers in  this  matter,  for  daring  to  draw  conclusions  which 
chanced  to  accord  perfectly  with  your  mother's  expressions." 

Beatrice  turned  away.  "  I  think  you  like  to  vex  me,"  she 
said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  I  cannot  convince  you  except 
by  telling  you  the  truth.  Why  should  I  conceal  the  fact  if 
Herr  von  Lindau  were  more  to  me  than  a  good  friend  ?" 

To  Otto  the  fading  sunlight  seemed  more  brilliant  than 
mid-day  splendour,  and  the  little  room  in  his  friend's  house 
the  entrance  to  Paradise.  Not  her  words  nor  her  tears,  but 
the  childlike  sincerity  of  her  manner  convinced  him  of  tlie 
truth  of  what  she  said. 

He  gently  approached  her,  as  she  stood  still  turned  from 
him.  "  Beatrice,  I  have  offijnded  you,"  he  said,  in  a  low, 
earnest  tone.  "  Forgive  me  ;  my  fancies  are  morbid  and  con- 
fused at  times,  and  I  say  what  I  do  not  mean." 

His  glance  fell  upon  the  open  book ;  it  lay  open  at  the 
picture  of  the  dreary  ruin  where  he  had  passed  the  saddest 
years  of  his  life.     Had  she  opened  it  thus  ?     He  could  poj; 

J  3* 


150  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

doubt  it.  And  in  the  rush  of  emotion  excited  by  this  convic- 
tion, Otto  miglit  have  been  carried  away  to  say  and  to  declare 
what  he  would  greatly  have  regretted  afterwards,  had  not  Lili 
with  her  n;erry  train  of  friends  entered  by  one  door,  and 
Warne  presented  himself  at  another,  both  full  of  anxious  in- 
quu'ies  as  to  the  health  of  the  young  baroness,  and  thus  put 
a  stop  to  any  further  conversation. 

Wl  ile  this  interview  between  the  cousins  had  been  taking 
place,  the  rest  of  the  company  had  been  strolling  through 
the  Wingen  park.  The  steward  had  also  been  of  this  party; 
for  no  one  knew  how  else  to  dispose  of  him.  He  had  even 
been  fortunate  enough  to  secure  a  companion  ;  Amanda  von 
Hohenheim,  a  lady  no  longer  young,  had  graciously  consented 
to  accept  him  as  her  escort.  She  had  no  cause  to  regret  her 
condescension,  for  Warne  possessed  considerable  conversational 
talent,  and  did  his  best  to  make  himself  agreeable,  while  he 
gratified  his  love  of  cunning  and  intrigue  by  keeping  his  ears 
open  for  whatever  passed  between  those  near  whom  he  might 
be  walking. 

The  pair  were  loitering  in  a  grove  on  the  borders  of  a 
mimic  lake,  when  suddenly  from  the  boughs  of  a  tall  linden 
which  formed  the  centre  of  a  group  of  trees  came  tlie  loud 
clear  note  of  a  cuckoo.  Warne  started,  and  cast  a  glance  of 
fury  towards  the  quarter  whence  the  sound  proceeded.  But 
Friiulein  von  Hohenheim,  whose  role  was  rather  the  senti- 
mental, stood  still  and  sighed.  "  Oh,  heavens,  how  charming ! 
A  cuckoo  at  this  late  season  I  Really,  Herr  Warne,  I  feel  the 
breath  of  spring  play  about  me  at  the  sound  of  that  clear 
note.'' 

"  It  is  a  rare  phenomenon,"  Warne  remarked,  with  great 
presence  of  mind  trying  to  lead  the  way  from  the  spot,  "  and 
is  the  forerunner  of  great  good  fortune  to  any  lady  who  hears 
it."  Amanda's  sharp  black  eyes  were  still  watching  the 
thicket  to  find  the  "joyous  bird  of  spring."    "But  that  tho 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  151 

omen  may  not  lose  effect,  it  is  necessary  that  the  bird  should 
remain  concealed  from  the  lady  whose  luck  it  is  to  hear  its 
cry."  This  was  successful.  Fraulein  von  Hohenheim  willingly 
followed  where  he  led.  "  Does  this  strike  you  as  superstition, 
Friiulein  von  Hohenheim  ?  It  is  very  generally  believed  in  my 
home,  and  you  know  '  there  are  more  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  than  are  dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy,'  " 

"  But  what  good  fortune  does  this  note  thus  heard  fore- 
tell?"    Amanda  asked,  with  an  affectation  of  shy  curiosity. 

"  Great  happiness,  Fraulein  ;  so  great "     But  as  Warne 

was  going,  on  to  spin  out  a  perfect  Munchausen  web  of  lies,  the 
clear  note  was  heard  again. 

Fraulein  von  Hohenheim  did  not  look  around,  but  Warne 
quickened  his  steps,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  succeeded  in  re- 
joining another  party  and  getting  rid  of  his  companion,  he 
hurried  back  to  the  little  lake. 

He  knew  well  what  species  of  bird  had  been  concealed  in 
the  thicket.  Scarcely  had  he  reached  the  tall  linden  when 
there  was  a  rustling  amid  its  branches,  a  dark  form  clam- 
bered from  bough  to  bough,  and  with  a  last  leap  upon  tho 
ground.  Brown  Elsie,  smiling  maliciously,  stood  before  the 
angry  man. 

"  You  go  too  far,  Elsbeth,"  he  said,  with  suppressed  rage. 
"  Your  bold  conduct  is  becoming  insufferable.  How  dare  you 
undertake  to  call  me  away  from  the  rest?" 

Elsbeth  laughed  aloud.  "  Away  from  that  ramrod  ?  Surely 
you  might  endure  that  without  breaking  your  heart,  Hcrr 
Steward." 

"Insolent  wench  I" 

"  Compose  yourself,  my  dear  Ilerr  Warne.  I  have  been 
working  hard  for  you,  as  you  shall  hear.  You  must  forgive 
me  my  '  cuckoo,' "  she  added,  with  a  sneer,  "  for  it  really  is  not 
my  fault  that  no  other  :'ound  makes  any  impression  upon  your 
dull  ears." 


152  A    FAMILY   FEUD. 

The  steward  was  full  of  impatience.  "  To  business,  Els- 
beth!"  he  insisted,  "and  instantly!     I  cannot  stay  here." 

"I  will  keep  you  no  longer.  Turn  back  to  the  house, 
and  look  into  the  fifth  window  on  the  left  of  the  terrace. 
Twill  give  you  a  small  surprise.  Farewell,  my  incredulous 
Herr!"  And,  clapping  her  hands,  with  a  burst  of  mocking 
laughter  at  Warne's  stupefied  expression,  Elsbeth  turned 
away  and  vanished  along  a  narrow  path  on  the  edge  of  the 
pond. 

Warne,  when  he  had  recovered  his  self-possession,  followed 
the  girl's  directions.  The  spectacle  that  greeted  his  eyes 
through  the  low  window  was  that  of  his  young  mistress  seated 
in  a  lounging-chair  by  the  table,  and  beside  her,  apparently 
engaged  in  a  most  interesting  conversation.  Otto  von  Arning. 

Was  any  further  confirmation  necessary  of  what  Elsbeth 
had  told  him  upon  his  midnight  visit  to  her  grandmother's 
hut? 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Supper  was  announced,  and  Lindau  insisted  upon  conduct- 
ing Beatrice,  who  declared  herself  perfectly  recovered,  to  table. 
Seated  beside  her  he  did  his  utmost  to  engage  her  attention,  but 
without  any  great  success,  for  the  conversation  became  general, 
and  its  chief  interest  clustered,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  about 
Otto  von  Arning.  He  felt  absolutely  gay,  and  the  unwonted 
sensation  made  him  brilliant  indeed.  Witty  anecdotes,  spark- 
ling jests,  quick  repartee,  came  bubbling  from  his  lips  as  in 
his  merriest  student  days.  It  was  like  nothing  but  some 
clear  stream,  that  having  been  long  choked  up  at  last  finds 
an  outlet,  and  dashes  from  rock  to  rock,  foaming  and  bright 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  153 

in  the  sunshine.  Even  Frau  von  Arning  could  not  but 
acknowledge  the  charm  he  thus  threw  around  him. 

Meanwhile,  Lindau,  greatly  vexed  that  his  finest  speeches 
received  but  scant  attention  from  his  feir  neighbour,  sought 
his  consolation  in  champagne;  one  bottle  after  another  was 
emptied  into  his  glass,  and  the  young  man  became  much 
heated,  although  not  enough  so  to  attract  the  observation  of 
the  other  guests. 

The  watchful  steward  alone,  whose  keen  though  veiled 
glance  nothing  about  him  escaped,  remarked  the  young  man's 
condition,  and  upon  it  founded  a  fresh  scheme  for  making 
each  of  his  rivals  a  tool  for  the  removal  of  the  other  from  his 
path.  Should  it  succeed,  might  he  not  by  unwearying  assi- 
duity hope  in  time  to  win,  not  Beatrice  alone,  but  Buchdorf, 
whose  broad  acres  were  in  reality  what  he  most  coveted? 

As  soon  as  supper  was  over,  and  the  young  people  were 
preparing  for  the  dance,  he  proceeded  to  carry  out  his  plot. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Herr  Baron,  that  you  are  very  well 
pleased  with  our  poor  provincial  society,  although  you  are, 
of  course,  accustomed  to  a  far  more  brilliant  circle  in  the 
capital,"  he  addressed  Lindau*  in  his  smoothest  tones,  as  he 
took  his  arm  and  led  him  out  upon  the  dark,  lonely  terrace. 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  it  is  admirable,  all  admirable,"  Emil  said,  rather 
thickly,  as  he  sank  into  a  garden  chair.  "  Fine  old  host, 
capital  wine — eh,  Herr  Warne  ?" 

The  steward  smiled,  since  the  darkness  could  not  betray 
him.  From  the  young  man's  tone  he  saw  that  there  was 
powder  enough  here  ready  for  the  flame  which  he  wished  to 
kindle. 

"  I  really  am  sorry  to  interrupt  your  enjoyment  unpleas- 
antly," he  began  again,  very  calmly,  "  but  I  need  advice  and 
assistance,  and  I  am  about  to  confide  implicitly  in  your  pru- 
dence and  judgment." 

At  any  other  time  these  words  would  have  sounded  like 


154  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

ridicule  even  to  a  man  as  self-complacent  as  Lindau,  but  in 
the  heated  condition  of  his  brain  he  took  it  all  for  gospel, 
and  Warne  fearlessly  continued :  "  Of  course  the  baroness 
must  know  nothing  of  the  danger  threatening  her  idolized 
daughter." 

"  Danger !"  Lindau  repeated,  startled  into  attention.  "  Friiu- 
lein  Beatrice  in  danger !  Speak  out,  man  !  Let  no  time  bo 
lost." 

"  We  are  not  losing  time,"  the  wily  steward  quietly  went  on. 
"  The  peril  which  I  dread  will  not  assail  its  victim  to-day  or 
to-morrow.  Doubtless  you  observed  that  when  we  returned 
from  our  walk  Herr  von  Arning  was  engaged  in  an  earnest 
conversation  with  Friiulein  Beatrice." 

Emil  drummed  impatiently  with  his  fingers  upon  the  rustic 
table  beside  him. 

"  He  is  paying  suit  to  her,"  Warne  continued,  "  and  I  fear 
his  suit  is  by  no  means  a  hopeless  one " 

"  Excuse  me,  but  such  an  assumption  appears  to  me  en- 
tirely unwarrantable,"  Lindau  here  interrupted  him,  with 
irritation. 

"Not  to  those  who  are  conversant  with  all  the  circum- 
stances," Warne  went  on,  coolly.  "The  baroness,  haughty 
as  she  is,  has  a  dread  of  publicity  with  regard  to  former 
family  dissensions,  and  of  course  I  have  done  what  I  could 
to  throw  the  veil  of  oblivion  over  the  past.  This  very  day 
1  avoided  alluding  to  it  to  yourself.  But  I  see  that  you 
cannot  rightly  judge  of  afiairs  without  a  full  knowledge  of 
what  has  taken  place ;  and  therefore  I  beg  you  to  listen 
p-itiently." 

And  he  forthwith  began  a  minute  narrative  of  Otto's  early 
career,  and  the  crime  of  which  he  had  been  accused.  From 
the  time  when  he  had  so  perjured  himself  years  ago,  he  had 
perpetually  endeavoured  to  convince  himself  of  Otto's  guilt, 
and  his  endeavours  had  not  been  entirely  without  success, 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  155 

especially  since  he  had,  several  years  after  the  trial,  made  a 
certain  discovery  in  the  moorland  hut.  Thus  he  could  speak 
with  a  degree  of  the  vrarmth  of  conviction. 

Emil  listened  with  an  interest  which,  to  his  honour  be  it 
said,  sprang  not  so  much  from  curiosity  as  from  a  desire  to  be 
of  real  use  to  Frau  von  Arning,  and  when  Warne  concluded 
his  cunningly  constructed  tale  with  the  words,  "  Herr  vun 
Arning  has,  as  you  see,  grown  wiser  with  years.  Why  should 
he  commit  murder  when  his  end  can  be  gained  by  so  simple  a 
maans  as  matrimony?"  the  young  man  sprang  from  his  seat, 
quite  beside  himself,  and  paced  the  terrace  to  and  fro  like  a 
caged  lion. 

"  The  wretch  !  the  villain  !"  he  repeatedly  exclaimed.  "  No, 
no!  this  must  never  be  !" 

"  It  will  need  both  time  and  cunning  to  defeat  so  accom- 
plished an  antagonist,"  Warne  said,  slowly. 

"  Time  and  cunning  !"  Lindau  replied,  fiercely.  "  I  have 
no  time,  and  cunning  I  scorn  !  Shall  I  wait  and  dally  until 
it  is  too  late?     No,  the  matter  must  be  decided  to-morrow." 

"  What  do  you  propose  ?"  the  steward  asked  in  apparent 
anxiety,  although  he  understood  perfectly  well  Lindau's  half, 
involuntary  gesture  towards  his  left  side,  where  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  wear  his  sword.  "  I  do  not  understand  you,  Herr 
Baron." 

"  Between  men  of  honour  there  is  but  one  way  to  settle  such 
matters,"  Lindau  said,  haughtily,  "and  that  way  1  shall  take!" 
And  he  hurried  into  the  house. 

Warne  rubbed  his  hands  and  whistled  softly  to  himself. 
His  puppets  were  obeying  the  wires  excellently  well.  Arning^ 
exquisitely  sensitive  to  any  allusion  to  his  past,  would  be  quick 
enough  to  accept  a  challenge.  "  Both  are  capital  shots," 
Warne  summed  up  matters  ;  "both  will  feel  deeply  aggrieved; 
and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  one,  at  least,  does  not  fall ;  it  will 
make  but  little  difiereuce  which,  fur  th  ■  survivor  can  have  no 


156  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

possible  chance  'witli  so   decided  and  peculiar  a  character  as 
Friiulcin  Beatrice." 

Meanwhile,  Frau  von  Arning  was  sitting  comfortably  at 
cards,  and  Beatrice  was  looking  on  at  the  dancers.  Her  anx- 
ious mother  had  requested  her  not  to  dance,  and  she  complied 
all  the  more  readily  with  this  request  since  Otto  had  taken  his 
place  beside  her,  and  was  talking  as  in  the  old  times,  only  that 
the  old  times  had  never  been  half  so  delightful.  She  looked 
up,  therefore,  with  anything  but  an  expression  of  pleasure 
when  Lindau  rudely  interrupted  the  conversation  with  the 
brief  sentence,  "  A  word  with  you,  Herr  von  Arning,  if  you 
please." 

Otto  turned  and  looked  quietly  for  a  moment  into  the  pale* 
face  of  the  young  officer. 

"  Has  anything  unpleasant  occurred,  Herr  von  Lindau  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  No,  but  it  may  occur  shortly,"  the  young  man  answered, 
sternly. 

"  Then  we  will  try  to  prevent  it,"  said  Otto;  and  excusing 
himself  to  Beatrice,  he  followed  Emil  into  thWldjoining  apart- 
ment. 

The  portiere  closed  behind  the  two  men  ;  they  stood  opposite 
each  other  in  the  small  room  lighted  only  by  a  single  carcel 
lamp.  With  one  hand  resting  upon  the  table.  Baron  Otto 
coolly  and  silently  awaited  the  young  man's  explanation. 
Lindau,  however,  experienced  a  very  strange  sensation  upon 
finding  himself  suddenly  thus  shut  off  from  the  brilliant  as- 
semblage and  from  all  that  had  helped  to  agitate  him.  Otto's 
calm,  self-possessed  bearing  had  the  effect  of  a  cold  bath  upon 
his  bewildered  sense,  and  a  doubt  dawned  upon  his  clouded 
brain  as  to  whether  he  had  any  right  to  call  to  account  a  man 
whom  both  his  major  and  his  mamma  considered  one  of  their 
most  distinguished  acquaintances. 

Yet  such  thoughts  came  and  went  like  gleams  of  lightning 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  157 

in  his  confused  mind,  and  he  said,  with  tolerable  firmness,  "  I 
should  like  to  know,  Herr  Baron,  by  what  right  you  so  per- 
sistently seek  Fr'aulein  von  Arning's  society." 

Otto  retreated  a  step,  and  measured  the  young  man  with  a 
haughty  look  of  menace,  but,  observing  that  Emil  was  evidently 
not  his  own  master,  he  quietly  replied,  "  It  is  a  question  that 
you  have  no  right  to  ask ;  but,  since  our  relationship  is  prob- 
ably unknown  to  you,  I  gladly  inform  you  that  Fr'aulein  von 
Arning  is  my  distant  cousin." 

"  You  mistake,  Herr  Baron  !  I  am  perfectly  acquainted  with 
this  connection.  I  know  all  your  past !"  cried  Lindau,  with 
flashing  eyes,  advancing  a  step,  "  and  this  very  knowledge 
prompts  my  question." 

"  Pray  come  to  the  point,  Herr  von  Lindau,"  said  Otto, 
coolly.      "  You  know  my  past — what  then  ?" 

"  What  then  ?"  The  baron's  perfect  calmness  began  to  con- 
fuse Emil.  He  went  on,  almost  with  a  stammer,  "  But — but 
do  you  not  see  that  we  must  fight?" 

"  No,"  Otto  curtly  replied.  "  First  sleep  off  the  champagne 
you  have  takehj-Herr  von  Lindau." 

*'  Herr  Baron  !" 

"  I  can  take  no  notice  of  any  challenge  given  by  you  in 
your  present  condition,"  Arning  continued,  composedly.  "  If 
to-morrow  find  you  of  the  same  mind,  you  know  where  I  am 
to  be  found,  and  I  i^hall  be  entirely  at  3  our  service." 

And  turning  on  his  heel,  he  left  the  young  man  to  his  own 
reflections,  which  were  of  a  decidedly  mixed  character. 

On  the  same  evening  Emil  von  Lindau  gained  fresh  expe- 
rience of  the  truth  of  the  old  saying,  "  Better  not  thrust  your 
finger  between  bark  and  trunk,  or  between  quarrelling  rela- 
tives." ^-'careely  was  he  seated  in  the  barouche  on  the  home- 
ward road,  when  Beatrice  subjected  him  to  such  a  fire  of 
erv/is-oxamination  as  soon  extracted  from  his  reluctant  lips  his 
purpose  in  calling  Otto  from  the  room,  and  then  both  ladies 

U 


158  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

overwhelmed  liiru  with  a  stonu  of  reproaches  to  which  the  re- 
proof administered  to  him  in  the  moroing  was  but  as  a  light 
summer  zephyr.  Frau  von  Arning,  in  short,  required  that  he 
should  withdraw  his  challenge,  and  became  angry  when  he 
refused  to  do  so. 

She  had  so  rejoiced  to  find  in  her  dreaded  relative  instead 
of  a  revengeful  misauthrope  a  quiet  and  as  it  seemed  very 
unimpassioned  man,  content  to  accept  matters  as  they  were, 
who  would  be  sure  to  listen  to  reason  in  case — and  she  could 
not  silence  a  secret  foreboding  on  this  point — Kurt's  second 
will  should  contain  anything  detrimental  to  his  daughter's  in- 
terests ;  and  now  this  armistice  which  she  had  resolved  to 
maintain  at  all  hazards  was  irrevocably  broken  by  her  own 
protege^ — a  guest  beneath  her  roof. 

She  was  so  far  carried  away  by  her  agitation  that  she  not 
only  uttered  a  eulogium  upon  Arning's  good  qualities,  but,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  and  in  opposition  perhaps  to  her  set- 
tled conviction,  declared  that  she  began  to  have  doubts  as  to 
the  proofs  of  his  guilt. 

Beatrice,  while  her  mother  was  speaking,  leaned  back  in 
a  corner  of  the  coach.  There  was  in  her  character,  simple 
and  childlike  as  it  appeared,  a  strong  dash  of  the  ancient 
Arning  force  and  determination  in  which  her  father  had  been 
so  entirely  deficient.  Hitherto  her  life  had  afibrded  no  occa- 
sion for  the  display  of  these  qualities.  But  the  feeling  which 
so  irresistibly  attracted  her  to  Baron  Otto  had  aroused  withiu 
her  every  faculty  that  had  until  now  lain  dormant.  What- 
ever happened,  upon  one  thing  she  was  resolved  :  Otto  should 
endure  no  further  misfortune  through  her  family.  Thus  she 
sat  for  a  long  while  pondering  upon  some  mode  of  extricating 
matters  from  their  present  unhappy  complication,  while  her 
mother  exhausted  herself  in  denunciations  of  the  cause  of  all 
the  mischief. 
.   The  clouds  were  still  dark  on  Theresa's  brow  when  they 


A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  159 

arrived  at  Buchdorf.  The  steward  betook  himself  to  his  own 
apartment,  and  Frau  von  Arning  bade  good-night  almost 
immediately  and  retired,  leaving  Beatrice  and  Emil  alone  in 
the  drawing-room.  The  latter  sank  exhausted  and  depressed 
into  an  arm-chair,  and  Beatrice,  standing  gravely  before  him, 
began :  "  Herr  von  Lindau,  tell  me  honestly  whether  it  is  not 
possible  for  you  to  withdraw  this  challenge,  or  is  there  any 
other  means  of  preventing  a  duel  between  my  cousin  and  your- 
self? You  know  how  much  mamma  would  be  gi-atified  by  a 
little  compliance  with  her  wishes  on  your  part,  and  I  entreat 
you  to  yield  to  her." 

"  But  it  cannot  be !  there  is  no  way  out  of  it !"  Lindau 
exclaimed,  springing  up,  half  beside  himself  "  Friiulein  von 
Arning,  you  torture  me !  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  it  is 
impossible." 

In  fact,  Beatrice  had  expected  no  other  reply.  "  I  do  not 
understand  your  code  of  honour,"  she  said,  with  surprising 
calm,  "  and  must  therefore  acquiesce.  Whom  have  you 
selected  for  your  second  ?" 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  he  admitted,  with  hesitation. 
"I  know  none  of  the  gentlemen  very  well;  but  perhaps  Herr 
von  Tannen  would  consent.     What  do  you  think?" 

Lindau  stood  still  and  cast  an  almost  timid  glance  at  the 
young  girl,  who  had  never  before  struck  him  as  so  grave  and 
dignified. 

Beatrice  nodded  an  assent.  "  The  choice  is  a  good  one," 
she  declared.  "  And  now  let  me  bid  you  good-night,  and  hope 
you  will  sleep  well  to  strengthen  you  for  the  coming  day.  God 
grant  this  affair  no  wretched  conclusion  ;  and  forgive  me  if  I 
do  wrong,"  she  added  to  herself,  as  she  closed  the  door  behind 
her,  "for by  fair  means  or  foul  this  duel  shall  be  prevented." 

After  a  short  season  of  reverie,  Lindau  also  retired  to  his 
room  to  seek  repose ;  but  there  he  found  a  letter  from  his 
mother  reminding  him  that  his  leave  of  absence  had  expired. 


100  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

and  Uiat  lie  must  be  in  gurrinon  ogain  on  Tliursday  evening. 
lie  must  tlierel'ure,  lie  reflected,  leave  Buchdorf  by  Wednes- 
day noon  at  tlie  latest,  which  would  give  him  but  one  day  to 
settle  his  quarrel  with  Baron  von  Arning.  In  great  irritation 
of  mind  he  undressed  and  went  to  bed,  more  from  the  force 
of  habit  than  from  any  hope  of  sleeping.  Contrary  to  his 
expectations,  however,  he  soon  sank  into  a  profound  slumber, 
and  when  he  awoke  tolerably  late  the  next  morning  he  felt 
reficshed  and  invigorated,  in  body  and  mind.  His  hasty  eon- 
duct  and  its  consequences  no  longer  appeared  in  so  dark  a  light 
as  that  in  which  the  baroness's  words  of  the  previous  evening 
had  dejiieted  them.  In  the  flush  of  his  youth  and  strength 
he  could  not  believe  that  the  next  day  would  have  a  bloody 
ending  either  for  himself  or  for  another  human  being.  He 
threw  open  his  windows,  and,  arranging  his  delicate  writing- 
materials,  indited,  without  hesitation,  a  short  note  to  Otto 
von  Arning,  in  which  he  desired  him  to  meet  him  on  the 
following  morning  in  a  retired  piece  of  meadow-land  belong- 
ing to  the  Wingen  estate.  He  sealed  the  envelope  with  his 
coronet  and  crest,  and  then  rang  the  bell. 

"  Send  a  groom  on  horseback  to  Ermsdal  as  soon  as  possible 
with  this  note,"  he  said  to  the  servant  who  answered  his 
summons. 

Friedrich  bowed  and  left  the  room  to  obey  the  order.  But 
as  he  was  going  into  the  court-yard  he  met  the  young  baron- 
ess, who  had  been  on  the  watch  for  this  moment  since  early 
morning. 

She  motioned  to  him  to  b^  silent,  and  led  the  old  man,  who 
had  been  sixty  years  in  the  service  of  the  Arnings,  up-staiis 
to  her  own  room.  Here  she  locked  the  door,  and  asked  hur- 
riedly, "  Ilerr  von  Lindau  has  just  given  you  a  letter  to  send 
to  my  cousin  Otto?" 

"Yes,  Friiulcin  Beatrice." 

Beatrice  held  out  her  hand.     "  Give  it  to  me." 


A    FA  MILT  FEUD.  161 

"  But "  the  old  servant  ventured  to  remonstrate. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  his  mistress  repeated,  quickly,  "I  know 
what  I  am  doing,  Fricdrich,  and  take  upon  myself  the  entire 
responsibility.  I  will  tell  you  what  is  the  matter,  I  know 
you  love  my  cousin  Otto?" 

The  prudent  old  man  did  not  instantly  reply. 

"  Well,  you  need  not  answer,"  the  girl  said,  with  a  smile. 
"  I  know  perfectly  well  that  you  arc  very  fond  of  him, — much 
fonder  than  of  me, — and  would  not  for  the  world  have  any 
harm  befall  him.  This  letter  is  a  challenge  from  Ilerr  von  Lin- 
dau,  who  wishes  to  fight  him." 

"  Oh,  dreadful,  dreadful  !"  Friedrich  exchiimed  in  horror. 
"  Oh,  I  mistrusted  the  stranger  baron  from  the  first.  It  would 
be  a  godless  act." 

"  Godless  indeed,"  Beatrice  rejoined;  "  and  unfortunately  I 
can  think  of  no  other  means  to  prevent  it  except  to  withhold 
the  letter.  I  will  not  open  it :  so  have  no  conscientious  scru- 
ples about  the  matter.  And  now  I  have  another  commission 
for  you,  and  this  you  must  execute  yourself  Take  the  best 
horse  in  the  stables,  and  ride  to  Wingen  with  a  note  which  I 
shall  write  to  Baron  von  Tannen." 

"  Then  Herr  von  Tannen  is  concerned  in  the  affair  ?"  the 
old  servant  asked,  turning  Lindau's  note  irresolutely  in  his 
hands. 

"  Of  course,"  the  young  baroness  replied,  already  busy 
writing  ;  "  he  is  one  of  the  principal  persons  concerned." 

"  Here  is  the  young  gentleman's  note,  Frilulein  Beatrice." 

Tlie  name  of  Tannen  had  prevailed.  Friedrich  was  blindly 
devoted  to  the  Arnings  and  all  pertaining  to  them  ;  he  would 
have  gone  through  fire  and  water  for  Otto  or  Beatrice,  and 
also  for  Herr  von  Tannen,  who  had  so  loved  Kurt. 

Meanwhile,  Beatrice  wrote, — 

"  Dear  Godpapa,  —  If  you  really  love   your  godchild, 

11 X- 


102  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

mount  your  horse  as  soon  as  you  receive  this,  ride  to  Erms- 
dal,  and  stay  there  until  nightfall.  Do  not  look  upon  my  request 
as  a  childish  whim ;  life  or  death  depends  upon  your  granting 
it.     When  I  see  you  I  will  explain  all. 

"  Your  loving  godchild,  B. 

"  P.S.  Do  not  for  the  world  let  any  one,  and  especially 
Herr  von  Arning,  know  that  I  have  sent  you  to  Ermsdal." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  Friedrich  was  upon  his  way  to 
Wiugen,  and  Beatrice,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  locked  up  Eniil's 
ominous  note  in  her  writing-desk.  She  had  at  least  gained 
time. 

When  Lindau  at  the  breakfast-table  announced  his  depart- 
ure as  inevitably  fixed  for  the  following  day  at  noon,  both 
Beatrice  and  her  mother  were  affected  rather  pleasurably  than 
otherwise  by  the  intelligence. 

All  day  long  the  young  baroness  contrived  to  keep  Erail 
constantly  beside  her.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when,  in 
the  absence  of  any  reply  from  Ermsdal,  his  increasing  anxiety 
led  him  to  ride  furiously  to  Wingen  to  consult  with  Herr  von 
Tannen.  But  the  old  baron  was  of  course  not  to  be  found 
there  ;  he  had  not  left  any  word  upon  riding  out  in  the  morn- 
ing, save  that  he  should  not  return  until  late  in  the  evening. 
Lindau  was  not  sufficiently  intimate  with  the  family  to  tres- 
pass so  long  upon  their  hospitality,  and  he  returned  in  a 
state  of  great  irritation  to  Buchdorf,  where  the  next  morning 
also  brought  him  no  communication  from  Ermsdal. 

Now,  although  Lindau  was  excessively  impatient  at  this 
unforeseen  delay,  the  steward  was  far  more  so.  He  saw  his 
carefully-laid  scheme  thus  slowly  coming  to  naught,  but  dared 
not  by  word  or  even  look  betray  the  rage  that  was  consuming 
him. 

At  last  the  stately  femily  coach  stood  waiting,  and  Lindau 
could  delay  no  longer,  for  fear  of  missing  the  train.     After 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  1G3 

he  was  seated  in  tlie  vehicle,  and  before  the  door  could  be 
closed,  Beatrice  leaned  forward  to  him  and  whispered,  "  I  owe 
you  an  explanation,  Herr  von  Lindau.  You  need  not  wonder 
that  your  note  to  my  cousin  received  no  reply,  for  it  never 
reached  its  destination.  Here  it  is,"  she  added,  taking  it 
from  her  pocket  and  holding  it  out  towards  him. 

Lindau  would  have  burst  out  with  some  impatient  exclama- 
tion, but  Beatrice  imposed  silence  by  a  haughty  wave  of  her 
hand,  and  went  on  hurriedly, — "  If  I  have  offended  you  I  ask 
your  forgiveness.  But  tell  me  yourself,  was  there  any  other 
choice  left  me?  In  a  moment  of  anger  you  would  recklessly 
have  fanned  to  a  flame  again  the  old  strife  in  our  family,  and 
when  you  were  told  that  our  future  peace  was  at  stake,  and  of 
what  bitter  suffering  our  poor  cousin  had  undergone  in  the 
past,  you  mercilessly  refused  to  take  a  single  step  towards 
B.  reconciliation.  But  I,  Herr  von  Lindau,  I  love  my — my 
family !  Can  you  wonder  that  I  used  every  weapon  at  my 
command  to  parry  your  assaults  upon  the  harmony  that  seemed 
once  more  about  to  reign  among  us  ?  Here  come  mamma  and 
Herr  Warne ;  not  a  syllable  of  all  this,  Herr  von  Lindau ! 
And  let  us  part  friends.  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  will  vin- 
dicate your  honour  to  my  cousin  as  zealously  as  I  have  defended 
his  to  you.     He  shall  read  your  letter." 

Here  Frau  von  Arning  approached  the  open  door  of  the 
carriage  with  a  few  of  those  graceful  conventional  phrases 
which  were  always  ready  on  her  lips.  What  could  the  young 
man  do  but  quietly  resign  himself  to  his  fate,  and  respond  to 
his  hostess's  kind  words  of  farewell  as  gracefully  as  was  possible 
to  his  wounded  pride  ? 

The  door  was  closed,  and  the  coachman  whipped  up  his 
horses ;  one  more  wave  from  a  white  kerchief,  and  a  turn  in 
the  avenue  snatched  from  Lindau's  gaze  the  giil  who  of  all 
the  goddesses  at  whose  altars  he  liad  sacrificed  had  made  the 
deepest  impression  upon  his  susceptible  heart. 


1G4  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Days  and  weeks  passed,  and  the  autumn  had  fahly  set  in, 
Theresa  seemed  thoughtful  and  depressed.  Indeed,  the  rain 
beating  against  the  window-panes,  the  wind  howling  across  the 
moorland,  and  the  yellowish-gray  autumn  light  that  filled  halls 
and  apartments  in  the  old  house  were  quite  enough  to  impress 
with  melancholy  one  who,  like  the  baroness,  found  the  summer 
skies  of  the  North  too  colourless,  and  its  July  sun  too  cold. 
Besides,  every  hour  brought  nearer  the  eleventh  of  November, 
Beatrice's  eighteenth  birthday.  This  day  had  hitherto  been 
the  gayest  of  the  year,  but  the  opening  of  the  old  baron's 
mysterious  second  will  cast  a  dark  shade  over  the  coming 
festival. 

In  many  old  families  there  exist  certain  rights  and  arrange- 
ments sanctioned  partly  by  the  primitive  laws  of  the  province 
and  partly  by  tradition.  Thus  it  was  not  so  much  the  fear  of 
pecuniary  loss  as  a  dim  foreboding  that  her  husband's  last  will 
might  accord  to  Otto  von  Arning  an  undue  power  over  Bea- 
trice which  filled  the  baroness  with  indescribable  anxiety  and 
like  some  ghostly  vision  haunted  her  couch  each  night,  driving 
sleep  from  her  weary  eyes.  Neither  she  nor  Beatrice  had 
seen  Otto  since  the  Tanuen  festivity,  and  in  proportion  as  his 
demeanour  on  that  occasion  faded  in  Theresa's  memory  her 
confidence  in  his  magnanimity  decreased.  It  was  touching  to 
see  the  efibrts  that  the  poor  woman  made  to  conceal  from 
her  child  the  anguish  of  her  mind;  but  no  one  except  Warne 
perceived  these  efforts,  and  nothing  could  touch  him,  especially 
since  at  present  he  was  himself  anticipating  the  eleventh  of 
November  as  anxiously  as  was  his  mistress.  Did  not  his  whole 
future  depend  upon  the  provisions  of  that  second  will? 


A    FAMILY  FEUD  165 

At  last  the  important  day  arrived,  dull  and  autumnal,  as 
suited  the  gloomy  temper  of  Theresa's  soul.  Blasts  of  wind 
howled  about  the  corners  and  in  the  long  corridors  of  the  old 
house,  the  weathercocks  upon  the  roof  creaked  and  whistled, 
now  and  then  an  unfastened  shutter  flapped  noisily,  and  if  by 
chance  one  of  the  heavy  oaken  doors  was  left  open  the  strong 
draught  slammed  it  to  with  a  crash.  In  addition  there  was 
the  monotonous  drip  from  the  roof  of  rain,  which  now  and 
then  fell  in  showers,  and  the  thousand  and  one  strange,  inex- 
plicable noises  always  to  be  heard  in  old  houses,  particularly  in 
the  autumn.  Theresa  could  not  remember  having  ever  before 
celebrated  her  child's  birthday  in  such  gloomy  weather  ;  in  her 
depi'essed  state  of  mind  it  seemed  to  her  an  evil  omen,  and 
when  after  breakfast  she  led  Beatrice  to  the  table  loaded  as 
on  every  previous  year  with  costly  birthday-gifts,  she  could  no 
longer  contain  herself,  but  threw  her  arms  around  the  aston- 
ished girl  and  burst  into  tears.  She  soon  recovered  her  self- 
control,  however ;  there  was  still  so  much  to  be  attended  to. 
Baron  von  Tannen,  as  the  dearest  friend  of  the  deceased,  was 
to  be  present  on  this  solemn  occasion,  and  the  aged  notary, 
King,  who  had  faithfully  kept  the  will  in  his  possession  all 
these  years,  a  service  for  which  Theresa  was  not  very  grate- 
ful ;  and,  worse  than  all,  Otto  was  obliged  to  appear. 

This  "  worse,"  however,  existed  only  in  the  mind  of  Fran 
von  Arning.  Beatrice,  it  is  true,  had  out  of  respect  to  her 
mother  put  on  a  black  gown,  but  in  her  lovely  face  there  was 
not  the  least  sign  of  mourning,  and  least  of  all  could  the  pros- 
pect of  seeing  Otto  once  more  have  depressed  her.  All  the 
morning  she  was  flying  up  and  down  stairs,  from  room  to  room, 
arranging  everything  for  the  reception  of  the  guests,  and  it  was 
fortunate  that  she  had  taste  and  judgment  sufllicient  for  her 
task,  for  Frau  von  Arning  could  be  but  of  little  use  to-day. 
She  sat  in  a  state  of  dull  despair  at  one  of  the  drawing-room 
windows,  torturing  her  poor  brain  with  fruitless  efforts  to  guess 


166  A    FA  MIL}'  FEUD. 

at  the  contents  of  the  will  "  If  the  next  few  hours  were  but 
over!"  she  sighed  to  herself.  "Certainty  is  the  only  thing 
that  can  give  me  repose."  She  even  experienced  a  kind  of 
feeling  of  repulsion  for  the  husband  who  could  so  torment  her 
long  years  after  his  death. 

Beatrice  liad  exchanged  the  small  landscape  above  the 
lounge  for  Otto's  portrait.  "  He  really  must  not  find  every- 
thing here  changed,"  she  remarked  by  way  of  explanation  to 
her  mother,  who  however  made  no  objection  to  her  daughter's 
proceedings. 

"  Well,  to-day  your  dear  'young  master'  is  coming,"  Beatrice 
called  out  to  old  Friedrich,  as  she  passed  him  in  the  hall.  "  Do 
not  try  to  put  on  such  a  long  face.  I  know  how  you  adore  him. 
Look,  have  I  not  put  him  in  his  old  place  ?  He  used  to  sit  here 
at  breakfast,  I  think.     I  seem  to  remember  it." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  quite  right,  FrLluleia  Beatrice."  The  old  ser- 
vant looked  around  at  the  tasteful  decoration  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  noticed  Otto's  portrait  through  the  door  of  the  next 
loom.  "  But,"  he  continued,  hesitating,  "  but  the  Frauleia 
will  remember  the  letter " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  shall  be  duly  delivered,"  Beatrice  interrupted 
him,  with  a  gay  burst  of  laughter,  "  depend  upon  it,  although 
its  contents  may  not,  perhaps,  greatly  delight  your  idol.  Hark  I 
there  comes  a  carriage, — it  is  he  !" 

The  last  words  sounded  almost  like  a  shout  of  joy,  and  the 
young  girl  hastened  to  be  the  fii'st  to  welcome  the  Freiherr  to 
the  home  to  which  he  had  been  so  long  a  stranger.  Frau  von 
Arning  had  also  heard  the  baron  arrive,  but  as  at  the  same 
moment  Beatrice's  light  footfall  in  the  hall  struck  her  ear,  she 
sank  back  in  her  chair  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

"  The  child  will  know  best  what  to  say  to  this  man,"  she 
thought. 

Nevertheless,  the  greetings  exchanged  in  the  hall  were  not 
very  lively.     Beatrice  could  not  possibly  express  what  she  felt 


A   FA  MIL  i"  FEUD.  167 

at  this  moment,  and  mere  words  of  course  would  not  come, 
to  her  lips,  while  Otto  was  mute  with  emotion. 

Beatrice  led  the  way  through  a  small  antechamber.  "  Come 
and  take  some  refreshment,  Herr  von  Arning,"  she  said;  "  you 
must  need  it  after  your  long  drive.  Mamma  and  the  rest  will 
soon  join  us." 

With  a  mute  inclination  Otto  followed  his  charming  guide. 
They  passed  through  several  rooms,  in  which  he  had  the  op- 
portunity of  leisurely  observing  the  changes  made  by  the  mis- 
tress of  the  mansion.  In  one  room,  however,  he  paused  with 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  ;  from  the  opposite  wall  there  looked 
down  upon  him  the  life-size  figure  of  his  cousin,  of  the  man 
who  had  been  both  father  and  brother  to  him,  with  the  same 
cordial,  kindly  smile  which  he  so  well  remembered  in  his  child- 
ish days.  The  picture  had  been  painted  from  a  miniature  after 
the  baron's  death,  and  hence  Otto  had  never  seen  it  before. 

"  Kurt !"  he  whispered,  involuntarily,  with  a  gentle  sigh  as 
he  stood  still  before  the  portrait.  "  Yes,  it  is  his  dear,  kind  face, 
line  for  line." 

And  Beatrice  thought  she  could  detect  the  gleam  of  tears 
in  his  eyes.  Her  own  brimmed  over  in  part  from  shame,  for 
she  could  not  conceal  from  herself  that  her  thoughts  to-day 
had  been  far  more  occupied  with  the  living  cousin  than  with 
the  dead  father.  As  if  to  retrieve  her  fault,  she  said,  "  My 
dear,  kind  father  I  Indeed  you  do  not  know  how  he  loved 
you,  or  you  never  could  have  been  angry  with  him  so  long. 
Often,  when  I  was  alone  with  him,  he  would  stand  me  upon 
the  arm  of  the  lounge  to  show  me  your  picture  and  tell  mo 
how  good  and  clever  you  were.  I  was  very  curious  to  know 
you,"  she  added,  with  a  little  smile,  which  the  teai'S  glistening 
upon  her  lashes  made  more  lovely  still. 

Otto  turned  from  the  picture  to  the  charming  vision  at  his 
side.  "  I  hope,"  he  said,  with  more  earnestness  than  Beatrice 
had  looked  for  from  his  com]»osed  bearing,  "  that  n)y  poor 


168  A    FAMILY  FEUD 

Kurt's  words  were  not  quite  fruitless  to  lessen  at  least  the  dis- 
like of  me  which  the  baroness  so  diligently  impressed  upon 
your  childish  mind." 

Beatrice  looked  down  embarrassed  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
Gnding  no  fitting  reply  to  his  words,  silently  went  on  towards 
the  dining-room,  where  she  turned  to  Otto  and  entered  upon  a 
widely  different  topic. 

"  I  have  a  sin  against  you  to  confess  for  which  I  have  no 
other  excuse  to  offer  save  the  miserable  one  that  the  end  jus- 
tifies the  means." 

Otto  smiled.  "  Well,"  he  asked,  "  of  what  terrible  crime 
does  your  heart  accuse  you,  since  you  seem  to  have  selected 
me  for  your  father  confessor  apparently  that  you  may  be  sure 
of  instant  absolution  ?" 

The  young  baroness  gave  him  one  hasty  but  significant 
glance.  "  I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  you  so  indulgent  a 
judge,"  she  murmured. 

"  For  you,  Beatrice "     The  words  came  involuntarily 

to  his  lips;  he  paused.  "Tell  me,  my  child,  what  is  it?" 
Something  in  his  air,  as  he  spoke,  reminded  Beatrice  of  the 
time  when  she  used  to  hang  upon  Cousin  Otto's  arm  unre- 
servedly, or  crouch  silently  for  hours  by  his  writing-table, 
except  that  his  voice  had  a  more  melodious  tone  in  it  at  this 
moment  than  she  could  ever  remember  during  her  childhood ; 
and  so  she  took  heart,  and  with  trembling  fingers  drew  the 
intercepted  missive  from  her  pocket.  It  was  very  provoking ; 
she  had  felt  so  strong  when  justifying  her  act  to  Lindau,  she 
had  fairly  seemed  to  herself  to  be  playing  a  virtuous  part,  and 
now  all  her  self-confidence  had  departed,  and  she  felt  actually 
like  a  convicted  criminal. 

"  This  letter,"  she  began,  stammering ;  "  this  letter,  Herr 
von  Arning,  is  addressed  to  you,  and  I — I  intercepted  it." 

"  To  me?"  Otto  asked,  in  surprise,  stretching  out  his  hand 
for  the  note ;  but  Beatrice  still  withheld  it. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  169 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried  ;  "  I  persist  in  my  wrong-doing.  You 
cannot  have  the  note  until  I  have  told  you  of  its  contents, 
and  then,  if  you  really  gi-ant  me  absolution,  you  will  throw  it 
into  the  fire.  It  is  from  Herr  von  Lindau.  You  remember 
the  dinner  at  my  godfather's,  and  that  Herr  von  Lindau  chal- 
lenged you  ?" 

"  Did  he  tell  you  that  ?"  Otto  interrupted  her  in  amazement. 
"  A  most  extraordinary  proceeding !  When  he  called  me  away 
from  you  he  was  in  so  bewildered  a  state  of  mind  that  I  did 
not  believe  he  would  remember  the  next  day  a  word  of  what 
he  was  saying.     He  did  recollect  our  conversation,  then?" 

"Yes,  unfortunately,  he  did,"  sighed  Beatrice;  "and  al- 
though he  perceived  that  he  had  behaved  in  an  excessively 
silly  and  unauthorized  manner,  he  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  to  apologize.  Nothing  that  either  mamma  or  I  could 
say  had  any  effect,  and  when  nothing  else  was  left  for  me,  I 
kept  watch  beneath  his  window,  and  waylaid  the  servant  to 
whom  he  entrusted  a  note  to  you.  I  told  Herr  von  Lindau 
all  about  it,"  she  went  on,  eagerly;  "not,  to  be  sure,  until  just 
as  he  was  .leaving  the  house  to  catch  the  train,  and  I  promised 
him  to  let  you  have  the  note.  Here  it  is ;  but  when  you  meet 
our  hot-headed  friend  again,  be  merciful." 

Otto  bowed  his  head  in  assent,  and  broke  the  seal.  The 
young  baroness  trembled  as  she  saw  his  features  resume  their 
wonted  sternness  as  he  read. 

"  You  are  angr}^  with  me  for  keeping  that  stupid  piece  of 
paper  from  you,"  she  said,  with  the  air  of  a  spoiled  child 
dreading  rebuke.  "  But  what  else  could  I  do  ?  Could  I  let 
you  risk  your  life,  all  because  of  a  foolish  misunderstanding?  I 
thought  our  family  had  already  caused  you  enough  unmerited 
pain,  and " 

She  paused,  with  a  bright  blush.     What  had  she  said  to 
banish  all  sternness  from  Otto's  face,  and  call  up  the  sudden 
gleam  of  joy  that  sliot  fiuni  his  dark  eyes? 
H  15 


170  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  Foes  no  longer,  then,"  he  said,  with  emotion.  "  Thanks, 
Beatrice,  tliauks."  As  he  spoke  he  took  her  hand  and  pressed 
it  to  his  Hps,  saying  far  more  by  tone  and  gesture  than  the 
words  themselves  expressed. 

Beatrice  was  by  no  means  pleased  that  her  mother,  with  the 
other  gentlemen,  entered  at  this  moment. 

Otto  turned  to  greet  Theresa,  to  whom  the  imminence  of 
the  dreaded  moment  had  restored  a  share  of  courage  to  meet 
it.  Her  words  were  measured  and  kindly,  but  to  Otto's  car 
not  half  so  eloquent  as  the  shy,  almost  mute  welcome  he  had 
received  from  the  daughter. 

The  guests  seated  themselves  at  the  table,  but  ate  little  and 
talked  still  less,  and  they  very  shortly  betook  themselves  to 
the  library,  where  the  solemn  ceremony  of  the  opening  of  the 
will  was  to  take  place. 

Notary  King,  standing  by  the  large  library  table,  first  care- 
fully wiped  his  spectacles,  then  cleared  his  throat,  and  pro- 
ducing the  important  document,  handed  it  to  all  present,  that 
each  might  be  convinced  of  the  genuineness  of  the  signature 
and  seal  before  he  began,  in  a  loud,  clear  voice,  to  read  the 
contents,  which  ran  as  follows : 

"  It  is  said  that  the  near  approach  of  death  lifts  many  a 
veil  from  mortal  eyes,  and  I  have  in  my  own  case  proved  the 
truth  of  this  saying.  With  a  mind  freed  from  earthly  preju- 
dice, I  have  pondered  upon  my  past  life,  and  in  my  sorrow  at 
its  sad  mistakes  I  would  leave  you,  my  dear  ones,  as  my  last 
bequest,  not  gold  or  lands,  but  the  sacred  injunction,  '  Love 
one  another.' 

'"  I  have  been  richly  blest  in  life,  since  in  my  wife  and  the 
boy  of  my  adoption,  my  young  cou!<in,  two  noble  natures  were 
confided  to  my  keeping.  But,  unfortunately,  both  were  hasty 
and  proud ;  neither  would  stoop  to  conciliate,  ijeither  would 
make  allowance  for  the  other's  weaknesses,  and  I  was  forced 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  171 

sorrowfully  to  admit  to  myself  that  my  own  character  was 
not  of  sufficient  force  to  harmonize  these  two  antagonistic 
natures. 

"  I  would  not  reproach  you,  I  do  not  reproach  you  for  the 
sad  years  I  have  spent.  I  myself  made  my  life  what  it  has 
been,  when,  in  a  moment  of  despair  and  weakness,  I  com- 
mitted a  great  sin  against  the  boy  whom  I  had  solemnly 
promised  a  dying  flither  to  protect.  All  that  I  could  do  to 
proclaim  to  the  world  my  entire  faith  in  my  cousin's  honour  I 
have  done.  The  will  in  which  I  named  him  the  guardian  of 
my  child  will  have  told  you  this ;  and  it  may  be  that  when  you 
listen  to  these  my  last  earthly  wishes,  all  rancour  and  hatred 
may  have  long  passed  away  from  your  hearts.  But  should  it 
be  otherwise,  I  pray  you  do  not  turn  deaf  ears  to  my  entreaty, 
and  God  soften  your  stubborn  hearts.  By  the  love  which  I 
bear  you  both,  by  the  grief  which  the  strife  between  you  has 
caused  me,  and  which  has  shortened  my  earthly  days,  I  adjure 
you,  lay  aside  all  anger.  Extend  each  to  each  the  hand  of 
forgiveness,  and  let  peace  and  confidence,  not  hatred  and  sus- 
picion, henceforth  reign  between  you. 

"  It  is  not  without  a  reason  that  I  have  appointed  the 
eleventh  of  November,  my  daughter's  eighteenth  birthday, 
for  the  opening  of  this  document.  If  you,  my  dearest  Otto, 
are  still  unmarried,  if  there  yet  exists  in  your  heart  a  sin- 
gle trace  of  the  forbearing  tenderness  you  once  displayed 
towards  the  child  Beatrice,  if  in  her  heart  there  still  glows 
a  spark  of  her  childish  affection  for  you,  take  her  for  your 
own,  and  let  her  be  the  peacemaker  between  her  mother  and 
yourself. 

"  It  is  not  for  the  sake  of  earthly  gain  that  I  desire  this 
alliance,  which  our  ancestors  would  doubtless  have  arranged 
•with  the  view  of  uniting  the  family  estates ;  no,  I  venture  to 
plead  for  it  in  the  name  of  peace,  good  will,  and  fiimily  union. 
Yet,  as  I  would  not  command,  neither  would  I  unduly  in- 


172  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

fluence  you  by  my  words.  One  thing  only  would  I  insist 
upon :  learn  to  know  each  other  1  Do  this,  and  I  am  sure 
you  will  be  firm  friends  for  all  time,  even  although  the 
close  alliance  which  I  desire  never  should  take  place  between 
you, 

'•  Should  your  union  ensue,  the  question  of  property  will  be 
at  rest  forever.  But  should  my  wish  upon  this  point,  like  so 
many  other  wishes  dear  to  my  heart,  never  be  fulfilled,  I  desire 
that  my  three  estates  of  Buchdorf,  Grasort,  and  Harsbye  be 
divided  by  those  competent  to  do  so  into  two  equal  portions ; 
the  one  to  be  given  to  my  wife  and  daughter,  the  other  to  my 
cousin  Otto,  to  whom  I  thus  fulfil  the  promise  given  to  my 
dearest  friend  and  relative,  his  father. 

"  I  hope  and  believe  that  all  parties  concerned  will  freely 
accede  to  this  disposal  of  my  property,  which  is  dictated  not 
only  by  justice  but  by  parental  affection.  Wealth,  my  dearest 
daughter,  is  as  often  a  curse  as  a  blessing.  I  can  attest  this 
from  bitter  experience.  A  wealthy  heiress  is  but  too  often 
the  prey  of  a  needy  adventurer. 

"  In  any  case,  my  dear  Otto,  I  depend  upon  you  to  aid 
my  wife  in  watching  over  my  child's  happiness,  and  to  see  to 
it  that  her  choice  in  life  is  one  that  a  loving  father  would 
approve. 

"  And,  now  that  my  last  words  to  you  are  spoken,  I  bid 
you  farewell,  my  dear  ones,  thanking  you  from  my  very  soul 
for  the  kindness  and  forbearance  you  have  always  shown  me. 
God  reward  your  fidelity,  and  have  mercy  upon  my  soul. 
"  Kurt  Heinrich,  Freiherr  von  Arning." 

The  notary  ceased,  and  for  the  moment  all  present  were 
deeply  touched,  nay,  humiliated,  by  the  noble,  loving  spirit 
breathing  from  the  words  just  read.  Good  old  Tannen  hid  his 
face  in  a  huge  red  silk  pocket-handkerchief  and  cried  like  a 
child  J  and  even  Theresa,  although  the  provisions  of  the  will 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  173 

more  than  fulfilled  lier  worst  expectations,  could  not  for  the 
time  cherish  any  thoughts  save  those  of  reverent  affection 
for  her  dead  husband.  She  had  grown  very  pale,  and  sat 
with  her  hands  tightly  clasped  in  her  lap,  looking  with  eyes 
full  of  an  expectant  anxiety  from  one  to  another  of  her 
guests. 

There  was  a  pause,  broken  only  by  the  ticking  of  the  tall 
clock  in  the  corner.  No  one  ventured  for  a  while  to  speak,  a 
spell  lay  upon  every  heart,  and  as  it  was  gradually  dissolved, 
and  the  world  of  reality  again  made  itself  felt,  the  looks  of  all 
instinctively  turned  towards  Otto  von  Arning,  who  stood  with 
one  elbow  leaning  upon  the  chimney-piece,  his  eyes  bent  on 
the  ground,  mute,  lost  in  reflection.  He  might  have  been  sup- 
posed perfectly  calm,  for  the  slight  tremor  of  the  upper  lip 
gave  no  hint  of  the  intensity  of  the  struggle  that  was  agitating 
him.  At  last  he  looked  up.  The  silent  inquiry  upon  the 
faces  of  the  company  required  a  decisive  reply  from  him  with 
whom  solely  the  power  of  decision  in  this  case  rested.  He 
knew  this,  but  he  wavered,  and  his  glance  sought  the  only  one 
in  the  room  who  had  not  dared  to  look  towards  him,  Beatrice. 

She  felt  that  the  next  moments  would  decide  the  destiny  of 
her  future  life,  and  an  eternity  seemed  to  pass  before  Otto's 
full,  deep  voice  broke  the  silence. 

"  I  pray  you  pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  for  my  delay  in  reply- 
ing ;  but,  apart  from  the  profound  impression  which  Kurt's 
last  wishes  must  of  necessity  produce,  his  will  contains  so 
much  matter  for  reflection  that  I  may  well  need  to  pause 
before  giving  a  decided  answer  to  its  requests.  Concerning 
the  division  of  the  estates,  I  acknowledge  with  gratitude  my 
cousin's  loving  provision  for  the  boy  of  his  adoption  ;  but  I 
must  at  the  same  time  emphatically  decline  once  for  all  to 
accept  my  share  of  the  bequest.  It  is  not  my  intention  to 
deprive  Frilulein  von  Arning  of  any  portion  of  her  paternal 
inheritance,  more  especially  as  I  already  possess  wealth  more 

15* 


174  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

than  sufficient  for  the  wants  of  my  retired  existence.  As  for 
the  reconciliation  with  my  relatives  which  Kurt  so  earnestly 
desires,  I  cordially  offer  them  my  hand  in  token  that  his  wish 
is  my  own  on  this  point.  Indeed,  I  have  so  far  anticipated 
his  wish  as  to  admit  to  myself  years  ago  that  the  principal 
fault  in  the  misunderstandings  which  have  brought  my  life 
Buch  unhappiness  was  my  own." 

Theresa  arose,  walked  to  where  the  Freiherr  stood,  and  laid 
her  hand  in  his,  while  in  her  troubled  eyes  there  could  jlainly 
be  seen  the  question  now  uttered  by  the  notary. 

"  There  is  a  third  point  touched  upon  in  the  will,  Herr 
Baron,"  he  said  ;  "  indeed,  it  appears  to  have  been  considered 
as  the  most  important  by  the  deceased :  your  uuioa  with 
Fraulein  Beatrice " 

"  You  must  perceive  that  I  am  powerless  to  decide  chere 
alone  and  of  myself,"  Otto  hastily  interrupted  him,  aui  his 
voice  quivered  slightly.  "  But  here  also  my  cousin's  wish 
coincides  with  my  own :  it  depends  solely  upon  Fraulein  von 
Arning  whether  this  desire  is  fulfilled."  He  approached  the 
young  girl.     "  Can  you  trust  me,  Beatrice?" 

She  looked  up  quickly  ;  their  glances  met ;  his  words  sounded 
business-like,  even  cold,  but  there  was  nothing  of  these  qualities 
in  the  eyes  gazing  with  passionate  entreaty  into  her  own.  With 
a  deep  blush  the  girl  put  her  hand  into  the  one  held  out  to  her, 
and  uttered  a  low  but  distinct  "  yes." 

She  felt  Otto's  hand  tremble,  and  the  clasp  with  which  he 
enclosed  her  delicate  fingers  in  his  own  broad  palm  told  her 
better  than  all  words  could  have  done  that  the  calumniated 
misanthrope  of  Ermsdal  was  anything  but  indiS"erent  to  her 
reply. 

The  steward,  who,  by  Frau  von  Arning's  desire,  was  pres- 
ent, and  who  had  listened  hitherto  in  breathless  eagerness, 
could  not  at  this  point  suppress  a  slight  exclamation ;  but  for- 
tunately for  him  this  outbreak  was  unheard  in  the  positive 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  175 

sliriek  with  which  Theresa,  arousing  herself  from  what  had 
seemed  lethargy,  hurried  to  her  child's  side. 

"  Beatrice,  my  child,  do  you  know  what  you  are  doing  ? 
Your  filial  affection,  your  respect  for  your  father's  wishes,  we 
must  all  admire,  but  you  are  carrying  it  much  too  far ;  be- 
yond the  point  where  repentance  is  possible.  Herrvon  Arning," 
she  interrupted  herself,  turning  to  Otto,  "  we  are — we  will  be 
friends ;  I  know  that  my  husband  has  made  the  final  decision 
in  this  matter  dependent  solely  upon  yourself  and  my  child. 
I  swear  to  you  I  will  not  force  her  inclinations,  but  I  beseech 
you  let  me  see  her  alone  for  a  few  moments,  let  me  lay  before 
her  the  consequences  of  the  step  she  would  thus  take ;  I 
demand  this  of  you  as  my  sacred  right." 

With  a  suppressed  sigh.  Otto  relinquished  the  hand  that  lay 
within  his  own,  and  retired  to  his  former  place  beside  the 
chimney-piece. 

"  Come,  Beatrice,"  her  mother  continued,  "  the  sooner  this 
matter  is  settled  the  better  for  us  all." 

She  put  her  arm  about  the  girl's  waist  and  led  her  into  an 
adjoining  apartment.  Upon  the  threshold  Beatrice  turned, 
and  meeting  Otto's  eyes,  which  were  following  her  with 
yearning  melancholy,  she  could  not  resist  giving  him  a  little 
reassuring  smile. 

The  mother  and  daughter  were  absent  nearly  half  an  hour, 
during  which  time  silence — but  a  silence  that  spoke — reigned 
in  the  room  they  had  left.  Then  the  door  opened,  and 
Theresa,  pale  and  broken,  led  Beatrice  up  to  the  Freiherr  and 
])laced  her  hand  once  more  in  his.  "  Take  my  child,  then, 
since  it  must  be  so,''  she  said,  in  trembling  tones,  "  and  God 
grant  you  may  make  her  happy  !"  She  could  say  no  more ; 
the  tears  welled  from  her  eyes.  Was  this  a  betrothal  ?  It 
seemed  to  her  more  like  devoting  her  darling  to  the  grave. 

The  Freiherr  was  greatly  moved  by  her  distress.  "  Beatrice's 
happiness  shall  be  the  sole  care  of  my  future  existence,"  ho 


176  A   FA  MIL  y  FEUD. 

said,  kissing  the  baroness's  hand,  while  the  others  hastened  to 
present  their  congratulations. 

Meanwhile,  the  sun  had  broken  through  the  shrouding 
clouds.  Every  one  felt  inclined  for  the  fresh  air  after  the 
agitating  experience  of  the  last  few  hours,  and  the  Buchdorf 
guests  were  soon  wandering  in  couples  through  the  leafless 
alleys  of  the  park.  Beatrice  and  Otto  loitered  along,  arm-in- 
arm, gazing  at  the  drifting  clouds,  at  the  bright  sunshine 
shimmering  in  the  raindrops  on  the  grass,  in  "  that  new  world 
which  is  the  old,"  mute  for  the  most  part,  since  neither  could 
utter  the  thoughts  that  rose  within. 

The  steward  watched  them  from  a  distance  with  rage  in  his 
heart.  Of  what  use  had  been  the  labour  of  years,  the  crime 
with  which  he  had  stained  his  soul,  since  Otto  had  thus  easily 
borne  ofi"  the  prize  to  which  he  had  boldly  lifted  his  eyes  ? 
He  stood,  an  image  of  baffled  rage,  when  a  hand  was  laid  upon 
Lis  arm,  and  Brown  Elsie's  mocking  face  looked  into  his  own. 

"  What  would  you  give,  Herr  Steward,  to  separate  the 
happy  pair?"  she  said,  with  a  laugh. 

"  My  hope  of  heaven  I"  Warne  exclaimed,  forgetting  all 
self-control,  "  if " 

"  If  it  had  not  long  since  been  sold  to  the  devil,"  Elsbeth 
drily  completed  the  sentence.  "  Your  offer  does  not  tempt 
me,  but  those  two  shall  never  be  one,  I  swear  by  the  heaven 
you  have  lost !" 

And  she  vanished  as  quickly  as  she  had  appeared. 

Her  lifelong  envy  and  hatred  of  Beatrice  had  lately  been 
stimulated  afresh.  She  had  gone  to  the  Kirmess  at  Ermsdal  in 
the  finery  purchased  with  the  money  extorted  from  her  grand- 
mother, but  the  peasant  girls  had  held  themselves  aloof  from 
her,  and  none  of  the  young  fellows  had  condescended  to  ask 
her  to  dance,  while  the  lord  of  the  estate,  the  only  person  for 
whose  notice  she  really  cared,  had  negligently  passed  her  by 
as  if  he  really  did  not  see  her.     Her  vanity  was  excessively 


A   FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  177 

wounded,  and  her  passionate  nature  was  stirred  to  anger  and 
revenge.  For  he  must  have  seen  her,  she  argued  to  herself. 
Her  lithe,  slender  figure  in  its  fantastic  costume,  with  masses 
of  raven  hair  flowing  free  (.)ver  her  shoulders,  and  wild  defiance 
in  the  large  black  eyes,  formed  too  striking  a  contrast  with  the 
blue-eyed,  flaxen-haired  German  girls  to  be  overlooked. 

Her  sudden  appearance  before  Warne  had  the  good  eflfect 
of  impressing  him  with  the  necessity  of  self-control.  He  had 
just  succeeded  in  restoring  its  wonted  calm  to  his  counte- 
nance when  the  baroness  came  slowly  along  the  avenue  towards 
the  house.  The  gentlemen  had  taken  their  leave,  and  she 
was  returning  to  her  own  apartment  to  seek  there  the  re- 
pose she  so  much  needed  after  the  unnatural  excitement  of 
the  morning. 

When  she  thus  unexpectedly  encountered  the  man  who  had 
been  for  so  many  years  her  confidential  adviser  and  man  of 
business,  she  so  far  forgot  her  customary  reserve  as  to  say, 
"  We  have  had  a  strange  day,  Herr  Warne.  One  could 
hardly  have  foretold  that  Baron  Otto  would  decline  so  wealthy 
a  bequest  and  sue  instead  for  my  daughter's  hand." 

The  steward  was  not  quite  master  of  himself,  or  he  would 
have  put  a  guard  upon  his  lips,  but  his  anger  was  at  present 
so  much  in  the  ascendant  that  he  said,  with  ill-concealed 
malice,  "  I  never  thought  Herr  von  Aruing  a  fool.  Why 
should  he  rest  content  with  half,  when  the  whole  could  be  had 
for  the  asking  ?" 

The  baroness,  startled  by  both  words  and  manner,  gave  him 
a  long,  searching  look ;  much  suddenly  occurred  to  her, — • 
among  other  things,  that  Warne  had  been  for  years  Otto's 
enemy,  and  that  this  man's  suggestions  and  testimony  had 
long  ago  been  the  cause  of  Otto's  arrest.  "  It  shall  not  be 
my  fault,"  she  thought,  "  if  our  reconciliation  is  not  a  lasting 
one  ;"  but  aloud  she  only  said, — 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  on  business,  Herr  Warna  and 

H* 


178  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

this  is  scarcely  a  suitable  place  for  the  purpose.  Pray  follow 
me  into  the  house."  She  stepped  past  him,  and  the  steward, 
already  repenting  his  hasty  words,  did  his  best  upon  the  way 
to  Theresa's  boudoir  to  remove  any  unpleasant  impression 
they  might  have  produced.  But  the  baroness  was  not  lightly  to 
be  turned  aside  from  her  purpose.  As  soon  as  the  door  closed 
b  jhind  them  she  gave  it  words  ;  the  kind  friend  vanished,  and 
in  her  stead  a  just  but  resolute  mistress  addressed  the  aston- 
ished steward. 

"  We  have  had  no  secrets  from  you,  Herr  Warne,  and  there- 
fore you  have  had  entire  knowledge  of  the  relations  existing 
between  Baron  von  Arning  and  our  family.  To-day  you  have 
also  had  an  opportunity,  as  an  eye-witness,  of  convincing  your- 
Belf  of  the  entire  and  complete  change  which  these  relations 
have  undergone.  I  will  not  allude  to  the  past,  still  less  speak 
of  my  personal  sensations.  The  Freiherr  is  to  be  my  son-in-law  ; 
consequently,  I  owe  him  all  consideration.  But  you,  Herr 
Warne,  are  his  enemy,  and  however  great  his  fault  or  your — 
error  may  have  been,  you  must  admit  that  Buchdorf  cannot  be 
your  home  when  it  is  his." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  remove  me,  madame,"  the  steward 
agitatedly  interrupted  her;  "remove  me,  a  faithful,  well-tried 
servant,  for  the  sake  of  a  man  whom  you  yourself — enough, 
he  is  your  future  son-in-law." 

This  tone  from  Warne  was  something  quite  new,  and  The- 
resa was  not  inclined  to  bear  it. 

"  You  do  not  allow  me  to  conclude,  Herr  Warne,"  she 
rejoined,  frigidly.  "Here  is  no  question  of  removal;  I 
simply  propose  to  you  to  travel  for  a  year, — at  my  expense, 
of  course,  for  our  contract  is  not  yet  at  an  end.  I  cannot 
see  anything  offensive  in  this  proposal ;  on  the  contrary, 
I  hoped  in  making  it  to  anticipate  your  wishes,  since  to  a 
man  of  any  delicacy  of  feeling  a  life  beneath  the  same  roof 
with  an  enemy  would  be  most  painful.     I  shall  be  sorry  if  I 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  179 

have  erred  in  my  estimate  of  you.  How  soon  can  you  close 
your  accounts  ?" 

"  In  two  days,  madame,"  was  the  scarcely  audible  reply. 
Warne's  voice  was  choked  with  rage. 

"  I  will  thank  you  to  do  so,  then,"  Theresa  said,  and  with  a 
haughty  bend  of  her  head  the  steward  was  dismissed. 

Tlie  case  with  which  she  thus  separated  from  a  man  who 
had  been  an  inmate  of  her  household  for  so  many  years,  bore 
sufficient  testimony  to  the  fact  that  the  steward,  in  spite  of 
his  officious  servility  and  apparent  integrity,  had  failed  in 
winning  the  genuine  esteem  of  his  mistress.  Theresa  had 
defended  him  so  long  and  so  often  against  the  attacks  of  her 
friends  that  she  had  at  last  quite  believed  that  she  liked  him  ; 
but  when  the  time  came  to  part  from  him  she  was  astonished 
to  find  how  easy  it  was  to  do  so. 

It  is  night,  and  again  the  lonely  lamp  burns  bright  upon 
Heinrich  Warne's  office-table.  With  compressed  lips  and  a 
gloomy  brow  he  sits  behind  the  piles  of  papers  collected  there. 
Although  the  autumn  night  is  wonderfully  mild,  a  bright  fire 
is  burning  on  the  hearth  and  he  tends  it  carefully ;  opposite 
him  hangs  the  cuckoo-clock,  but  its  busy  pendulum  has  ceased, 
as  has  the  steward's  ill-gotten  gain  in  the  Von  Arning  family. 
On  tables  and  chairs,  and  on  the  floor,  stand  two  rows  of  books. 
In  binding,  lettering,  and  even  in  the  more  or  less  worn  gilding 
of  the  backs,  these  two  rows  are  exactly  similar ;  not  so  their 
contents.  For  years  Herr  Warne  has  kept  a  double  set  of 
books,  and  he  is  now  busy  making  last  entries  before  consign- 
ing to  the  flames  the  set  which  has  always  been  ready  for  the 
baroness's  inspection.  She  has  hardly  ever  even  glanced  at 
them ;  she  will  never  know  when  another  set  is  substituted 
for  them  showing  the  actual  condition  of  her  aff"airs,  while 
the  one  hitherto  shown  her  contains  only  dazzling  falsehoods. 
For  years  the  steward  has  been  preparing  for  this  moment ;  for 


180  A  FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

years  he  has  reckoned  every  chance.  His  departure  from 
Buchdorf  finds  him  ready,  although  he  has  in  the  last  few 
months  allowed  himself  to  dream  of  the  fulfilment  of  fairer 
hopes. 

When  the  first  gray  gleam  of  morning  stole  through  the 
window-curtains  his  weary  task  was  ended.  In  the  drawers 
of  the  table  bills  and  receipts  were  carefully  tied  up  in  bundles, 
and  upon  the  table  top  were  ranged  the  genuinely  kept  books, 
the  false  ones  having  been  consumed  to  the  last  scrap,  and 
their  ashes  collected  in  a  small  box.  Heinrich  Warne  sur- 
veyed his  work  with  a  smile.  There  was  not  to  be  seen,  he 
thought,  a  grain  of  dust  that  could  betray  him  or  cast  the 
faintest  suspicion  upon  his  honesty.  For  all  that  might  be 
discovered  in  those  books  the  baroness  alone  was  to  blame. 

He  opened  the  window  and  looked  out;  as  he  did  so  he 
fancied  he  saw  a  shadow  glide  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 
But  in  vain  did  he  strain  every  sense.  There  was  no  one 
to  be  either  seen  or  heard.  The  park  lay  silent  and  frosty  in 
the  glimmering  dawn,  and  the  hard  soil  baneath  his  window 
showed  no  trace  of  footsteps.  The  steward  ascribed  the  fan- 
cied shadow  to  the  state  of  his  nerves  excited  by  his  sleepless 
night,  and  went  easy  and  confident  to  order  the  carriage  for  his 
departure. 

As  he  drove  down  the  avenue  wrapped  in  his  warm  travel- 
ling cloak,  a  cigar  between  his  lips,  he  saw  the  little  lake  gleam- 
ing through  the  leafless  trees.  He  leaned  forward  to  look  at 
it  with  a  half-triumphant  smile.  "  Farewell,  lovely  lake,"  he 
thought,  "  but  not  for  long.  I  may  soon  return  as  your  lord 
and  master." 

In  fact  he  had  grounds  for  such  blissful  visions ;  he  knew 
that  the  baroness  was  deeply  involved,  while  he  had  for  years 
been  accumulating  in  an  English  banking-house  a  sum  now 
more  than  sufliicient  to  extricate  the  family  from  embarrass- 
ment.    He  had  meant  to  make  Beatrice's  hand  the  price  for 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  181 

sucli  relief,  and  he  had  dared  to  hope  that  under  the  pressure  of 
circumstances  her  mother  would  not  deny  his  suit.  Now  that 
such  hopes  had  been  proved  vain,  he  still  believed  that  Buch- 
dorf  might  yet  be  his.  When,  as  was  sure  sooner  or  later  to 
be  the  case,  it  fell  beneath  the  auctioneer's  hammer  he  would 
simply  purchase  it.  The  only  thing  that  made  him  doubtful 
as  to  the  success  of  this  deep-laid  scheme  was  his  uncertainty 
as  to  Otto's  conduct  when  his  relative's  ruin  was  made  known 
to  him  ;  but  here  the  steward  did  not  anticipate  much  difficulty, 
since  he  took  Aunt  Bernhardine's  view  of  the  matter,  and  be- 
lieved that  Buchdorf  was  the  real  object  of  Otto's  desires.  If 
it  should  be  lost  to  him  he  would  surely  find  some  means  to 
break  the  tie  that  bound  him  to  a  comparatively  penniless  girl, 
Warne  concluded,  and  he  did  not  fear  him  as  a  rival  in  the  pur- 
chase of  Buchdorf.  Baron  von  Arning  had  just  made  Repach 
his  own,  and  he  could  hardly  be  master  of  a  sum  sufficient 
for  the  acquisition  of  another  large  estate. 

The  carriage  stopped  at  the  station.  Warne  procured  a 
ticket  for  Hamburg,  and  the  coachman  saw  him  borne  off  in 
the  train  almost  before  his  horses'  heads  were  turned  towards 
home. 

But  the  steward  did  not  go  to  Hamburg ;  he  left  the  rail- 
way-carriage at  the  next  little  station,  took  his  portmanteau 
and  walked  through  the  mingled  rain  and  snow  that  poured 
without  cessation  from  the  leaden  skies  across  the  fields  to  the 
Repach  forest.  He  was  so  fortunate  as  to  reach  the  man- 
sion belonging  to  the  estate  without  encountering  a  human 
being.  The  building  was  empty.  Otto  had  no  use  for  it,  and 
its  former  possessor  had  visited  it  only  once  during  the  hunt- 
ing-season. Neither  had  taken  any  pains  to  obliterate  the 
traces  of  decay  which  wind  and  weather  with  all-conquering 
time  had  left  in  the  brick  walls  of  the  old-fashioned  edifice. 

The  place  looked  melancholy  and  deserted.  Grass  was  grow- 
ing between  the  paving-stones  of  the  court-yard.     The  gutter- 

16 


182  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

pipes  on  the  roof  had  long  ceased  to  do  their  duty ;  they  hung 
down  over  the  gable  ends,  or  lay  rusting  beside  the  broken 
tiles.  Some  of  the  panes  in  the  windows  were  gone,  admitting 
sun  and  air  to  the  rooms  with  their  stiff,  antique  furniture. 
Warne  rattled  and  shook  one  of  the  window-shutters  on  the 
ground-floor,  and  when  the  old  bolt  gave  way  he  wrapped  his 
handkerchief  around  his  hand,  dashed  in  one  of  the  panes, 
and  opened  the  window.  It  was  the  work  of  a  minute ;  the 
next,  window  and  shutter  were  closed  after  him,  and  he  was 
stretched  upon  the  faded  sofa,  trying  to  recover  the  sleep  he 
had  lost  on  the  previous  night. 

On  the  evening  of  this  day,  as  old  Stina  was  sitting  by  the 
dim  light  of  her  tallow  candle,  making  her  spinning-wheel 
hum  in  rivalry  of  the  black  cat's  purring,  her  friend  Warne 
suddenly  stood  before  her,  as  if  sprung  from  the  earth.  la 
her  first  surprise  the  old  woman  would  have  called  for  help, 
but  the  steward,  with  a  half  smile,  motioned  her  to  be  silent. 

"  Do  not  be  frightened,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  I,  Heinrich  Warne, 
in  the  flesh.  First  give  me  something  to  eat,  and  I  will  tell 
you  more." 

"  I  thought  you  were  ofi"  this  morning.  What  brings  you 
here?"  the  crone  asked,  as  she  hobbled  to  the  cupboard. 

"  Did  you  think  I  would  leave  the  show  before  the  play  is 
ended  ?"  Warne  replied,  seating  himself  upon  the  only  chair 
in  the  hut. 

"  Els  said  you  had  gone  to  Hamburg,"  the  old  woman  mut- 
tered, setting  bread  and  ham  before  her  guest,  "  because  it  is 
near  the  sea." 

"  And  why  should  I  run  away  like  a  convicted  school-boy?" 
Warne  coolly  interrupted  her,  spreading  his  white  handker- 
chief upon  his  knees  in  default  of  a  napkin.  He  was  just  as 
carefully  and  elegantly  dressed  as  was  his  wont  at  Buchdorf. 
"  No,  I  have  taken  up  my  abode  in  Repach,  where  I  shall 
remain.     I    know  all   that  will    happen  at   Buchdorf     The 


A   FA  MIL r  FEUD.  183 

baroness  has  dismissed  me,  and  I  shall  not  rest  until  I  have 
seen  her  leave  also." 

Warne  had  no  concealments  from  Mother  Stina,  from  whom 
he  feared  no  treachery,  since  both  he  and  she  knew  that  he 
could  at  any  time  devote  her  to  the  gallows.  She  had  been 
his  bold  and  willing  slave  since  the  day  when  he  had  made  a 
certain  mysterious  discovery  in  her  hut.  Nevertheless,  what 
he  had  just  said  seemed  seriously  to  disturb  her.  She  stared 
at  him  and  repeated,  "  Dismissed  you  ? — then  all  is  dis- 
covered !" 

Warne  took  a  hungry  bite  of  the  piece  of  black  bread  in 
his  hand.  "  Not  yet,''  he  said.  "  That  is  our  affair ;  I  am  here 
to  tell  you  what  we  must  do." 

The  old  woman  only  wrung  her  hands ;  her  courage  was 
evidently  leaving  her  with  her  physical  strength. 

"We  are  alone?"  Warne  continued,  looking  keenly  around 
the  dim  room.     "  Your  Elsbeth  must  know  nothing  of  this." 

The  crone  nodded,  but  her  eye  shyly  glanced  towards  the 
bed-curtains,  which  stirred  slightly. 

"  Listen,  then ;  here  are  three  letters ;  you  must  go  to  M 

to " 

"  No,  no !"  old  Stina  protested,  "  leave  me  out  of  the  game, 
Ilerr  Warne.  The  proverb  says,  '  The  pitcher  that  goes  so 
often  to  the  well  gets  broken  at  last,'  and  you  ought  to  thank 
the  devil  that  all  is  not  yet  discovered,  and  get  out  of  the  way 
while  there  is  time  !" 

" Nonsense,  Mother  Stina  1"  the  steward  grumbled.  "Since 
when  have  you  been  such  a  coward  ?  How  often  must  I  tell 
you  that  we  cannot  be  found  out  ?  But  you  never  will  under- 
stand. Let  this  money  speak  to  you  more  distinctly.  It  is 
yours  if  you  do  my  errand  without  more  ado." 

The  crone  snatched  at  the  purse,  weighed  it  in  her  hand, 
and  began  to  count  its  contents.  It  was  strange  to  see  fear 
aiid  avarice  in  her  face  striving  for  the  mastery ;  avarice  con- 


184  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

quered  at  last.  Mother  Stina  consented.  A  gratified  expres- 
sion flitted  across  the  steward's  features,  but  vanished  instantly, 
as  with  his  usual  cool  composure  he  put  the  purse  into  his 
pocket  again,  remarking  significantly,  "  It  is  yours  as  soon  as 
my  errand  is  accomplished.     Here  are  the  letters.     You  will 

take  a  secret  journey  to  M ,  and  as  secretly  contrive  to  have 

these  three  papers  conveyed  to  the  three  usurers.  Their  con- 
tents you  may  know.  I  simply  inform  each  of  these  people 
that  Frau  von  Arning  is  negotiating  loans  with  the  others  also ; 
it  •will  be  enough  to  set  the  blood-hounds  on  the  track;  they 
will  take  care  of  the  rest.  Fortunately  the  loans  have  been 
so  contrived  that  they  may  be  called  in  at  any  moment.  But 
go  yourself.  Mother  Stina,  for  I  would  not  trust  your  Elsbeth 
across  the  road,  and  take  good  care,  for  your  own  sake,  that 
you  are  not  recognized,  for  if  anything  should  be  discovered — 
it  is  well  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst — I  shall  admit  that  I 
negotiated  the  loans  in  the  interest  of  the  baroness  through  you, 
but  I  shall  deny  all  knowledge  of  these  letters.  This  you  do 
upon  your  own  responsibility.  I  tell  you  this,  that  you  may 
perfectly  understand  what  you  are  about.  And  now,  good- 
night. I  give  you  eight  days  in  which  to  fulfil  my  commis- 
sion." 

With  these  words  he  took  his  hat  and  left  the  hut  as  noise- 
lessly as  he  had  come,  while  the  strife  in  old  Stina's  soul  be- 
tween fear  and  avarice  began  after  his  departure  to  rage  afresh. 

In  her  youth  she  had  chosen  to  pursue  evil  ways,  and  now 
in  her  old  age,  when  she  would  fain  have  had  rest,  evil  ways 
pursued  her  in  turn.  There  was  no  help  for  it :  the  past  is 
but  the  seed  of  the  future. 

As  Warne  slipped  through  the  thicket,  firmly  convinced  that 
no  human  being  saw  him,  the  clear  note  of  the  cuckoo  sounded 
from  a  clump  of  trees  close  by.  He  started  in  alarm,  but 
after  one  moment's  reflection  he  found  comfort  rather  than 
annoyance  in  the  detested  cry,  "  since  if  Elsbeth  is  wandering 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  185 

abroad  in  the  forest,  she  can  know  nothing  of  my  interview 
with  her  grandmother,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  walked  on 
much  relieved. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  no  draught  of  air  that  had  stirred  the 
blue  check  bed-curtains. 


CHAPTER    XVL 

No  one  testified  such  satisfaction  in  the  unexpected  turn 
that  aifairs  had  taken  as  Aunt  Bernhardine.  That  usually 
cold  and  stern  individual  seemed  quite  beside  herself  upon 
learning  from  Otto  of  his  betrothal. 

"Now  Buchdorf  will  be  your  own  1"  she  exclaimed.  "  The 
wish,  the  aim  of  my  life  is  fulfilled.  Buchdorf  will  be  yours, 
even  if  you  must  take  that  doll  of  a  girl  along  with  it." 

Her  expressions  and  views  upon  the  subject  were  intensely 
grating  to  Otto ;  but  instead  of  involving  himself  in  useless 
discussions,  or  giving  utterance  to  vain  remonstrance,  he  spent 
his  time  when  in  the  house  at  Ermsdal  shut  up  in  his  own 
apartment. 

Baron  Kurt's  last  will,  and  the  betrothal  which  had  grown 
out  of  it,  were  soon  matter  of  gossip  in  the  surrounding  coun- 
try and  the  circles  of  the  capital,  where  they  were  of  course  a 
nine  days'  wonder.  Buchdorf  was  daily  visited  by  numbers 
of  congratulating  acquaintances  who  came  more  from  curiosity 
perhaps  than  because  their  sympathy  was  genuine.  In  this 
case,  however,  they  left  it  without  much  satisfaction,  for  none 
of  the  parties  chiefly  concerned  alluded  to  the  betrothid  with 
any  degree  of  frankness,  until  at  last  even  godpapa  Tannen, 
who  had  heard  the  will  read,  grew  rather  confused  upon  the 
subject. 

It  certainly  was  an  extraordinary  engagement !  It  seemed, 
IG* 


186  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

indeed,  to  have  been  inaugurated  not  by  the  warm  breath  of 
life  and  love,  but  by  the  icy  hand  of  death.  Beatrice,  for  ex- 
ample, would  stand  for  hours  at  her  window,  an  opera-glass  in 
her  hand,  continually  watching  the  road  from  Ermsdal  and 
the  solitary  horseman  sure  to  appear  there  after  a  while.  But 
as  soon  as  he  whom  she  so  anxiously  awaited  had  reached  a 
certain  point  the  opera-glass  was  laid  aside,  her  dress  subjected 
to  a  careful  scrutiny  before  the  mirror,  and  when  Arning  at  last 
arrived  he  would  find  his  betrothed  busy  with  her  embroidery 
or  a  book,  of  the  contents  of  which  indeed  she  could  not  pos- 
sibly have  given  any  account ;  but  there  she  sat  apparently 
cool  and  indifferent,  seeming  not  to  have  expected  him  at  all. 

She  often  stood  dreaming  at  the  same  window  on  clear  win- 
ter nights,  tracing  out  for  herself  a  pathway  to  Ermsdal  among 
the  shining  worlds  above  her.  She  knew  nothing  of  astron- 
omy, hardly  the  titles  of  the  various  constellations ;  but  they 
grew  familiar  to  her  eyes,  she  called  them  by  names  of  her 
own,  and  for  her  yearning  fancy  they  bridged  the  distance  be- 
tween Buchdo.f  and  the  home  of  her  betrothed.  He  never 
suspected  this ;  she  shyly  hid  these  reveries  from  all  the  world, 
smiling  herself  at  the  childish  dream  which  was,  however,  not 
destined  to  be  vain. 

Otto  daily  came  to  Buchdorf,  but  a  spirit  of  inexplicable 
unrest  soon  drove  him  thence.  If  he  chanced  to  find  Beatrice 
alone  he  would  talk  kindly  and  calmly  with  her  as  with  a  dear 
child,  upon  subjects  fitted,  he  thought,  to  interest  her.  If  her 
mother  was  present  he  addressed  himself  to  her,  while  his 
betrothed  sat  by  mute  and  apparently  indifferent.  She  had 
gradually  convinced  herself  that  her  father's  request  alone 
could  have  influenced  Arning  to  woo  her,  and  this  conviction 
made  her  shy  and  awkward  with  him.  Once  she  had  proudly 
boasted  that  she  should  never  be  ashamed  to  confess  her  affec- 
tion, but  nothing  now  would  have  induced  her  to  allow  her 
betrothed  to  know  how  dear  he  was  to  her.     And  Otto  lay 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  187 

beneath  the  spell  of  the  same  delusion.  He  saw  in  Beatrice 
the  child  whom  he  had  loved  nine  years  before.  Obedience, 
filial  affection,  had  induced  her  to  promise  him  her  hand  with- 
out an  idea  of  the  solemn  significance  of  the  act :  he  would 
wait  patiently  in  hopes  that  true  love  might  in  time  be  born  of 
the  half-unconscious  preference  for  him  which  she  had  retained 
from  her  childish  days,  and,  fearful  of  startling  her  by  an  ex- 
pression of  his  passionate  devotion,  he  controlled  himself  to  a 
degree  that  certainly  at  times  looked  very  like  indifference. 

Thus  the  lovers  were  playing  a  cruel  game  of  hide-and-seek 
with  each  other.  Out  of  tender  consideration  each  for  each 
they  concealed  their  ardent  affection,  and  it  might  be  doubted 
whether,  if  some  lucky  chance  did  not  dissolve  the  spell,  the 
force  of  time  and  habit  might  not  convert  the  semblance  of 
indifference  into  reality. 

Frau  von  Arning,  however,  was  entirely  won  over  by  her 
future  son-in-law ;  her  mistrust  of  him  had  so  vanished  that 
the  connection  she  had  dreaded  now  seemed  to  her  most  suit- 
able and  desirable,  and  since  whatever  she  did  she  always  did 
with  all  her  might,  and  never  neglected  conventional  forms, 
she  one  day  declared  that  since  the  infirmities  of  age  confined 
Friiulein  von  Tretten  to  Ermsdal  she  held  it  her  duty  to  pay 
her  a  visit. 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  On  a  cold  day  in  December, 
Theresa  with  her  daughter  drove  to  Ermsdal.  Beatrice  dressed 
herself  for  this  visit  with  the  greatest  care,  and  got  into  the 
carriage  in  a  state  of  calm  content.  But  as  it  neared  its  goal 
her  heart  began  to  beat  loud  and  fast,  and  she  scarcely  heeded 
her  mother's  expressions  of  wonder  and  admiration  as  they 
drove  over  a  well-kept  road  through  what  had  formerly  been 
a  waste.  The  red  roofs  of  the  low-lying  but  extensive  houses 
of  the  well-to-do  peasant  of  North  Germany  were  seen  on  all 
sides,  but  no  sign  of  any  mansion  befitting  the  lord  of  the  soil. 
The  baroness  opened  the  carriage  window  and  asked  the  coach- 


188  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

man  if  Herr  von  Arning's  dwelling  was  still  far  distant.  In 
answer  the  man  pointed  to  a  low  building  in  no  way  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  peasants'  houses,  except  that  it  lay  quite 
isolated  from  them.  Beatrice  felt  her  heart  sink  within  her ; 
all  the  surroundings  here  struck  her,  used  as  she  had  always 
been  to  elegance  and  luxury,  as  gloomy  and  depressing.  She 
had,  however,  no  time  for  such  thoughts  ;  the  horses  flew  over 
the  slightly  frozen  ground,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  the  car- 
riage drew  up  before  the  narrow  steps  of  the  front  door,  where 
Otto  stood  waiting  to  receive  them.  Beatrice  had  not  an  in- 
stant to  remark  the  absence  of  flower-beds,  or  the  bald,  cheer- 
less exterior  of  the  house  ;  before  she  knew  how  it  happened 
she  found  herself  confronted  with  a  tall,  spare  woman  dressed 
in  black,  who  rose  stiifly  from  her  arm-chair  at  the  entrance 
of  the  visitors,  and  laid  aside  a  large  piece  of  terribly  coarse 
knitting.  She  recognized  the  dreaded  Aunt  Bernhardine,  of 
whom,  among  her  childish  memories,  she  retained  anything 
but  a  pleasant  remembrance.  For  Otto's  sake  she  wished  to 
please  the  old  lady,  and  so,  hastening  to  her,  she  kissed  her 
bony  hand,  but  when  she  looked  up  and  met  the  piercing 
sunken  eyes  of  the  canoness  fixed  upon  her,  while  the  thin 
lips  parted  to  utter  a  formal  greeting,  she  felt  like  exclaiming, 
with  Mary  Stuart,  "Oh  God!  from  out  those  lineaments  there 
speaks  no  heart !" 

Confused  and  troubled,  she  sat  down  in  the  wooden  chair 
offered  her,  and  gazed  in  wonder  at  the  meagre  arrangement 
of  the  apartment,  while  the  baroness  and  the  canoness,  who  met 
for  the  first  time  since  the  marriage  of  the  former,  exchanged 
the  formalities  suitable  to  the  occasion. 

Otto  marked  her  glance.  "  Our  reception-room  hardly 
meets  your  approval,  Beatrice,"  he  .^aid,  in  jest.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  our  Ermsdal  hermitage,  altogether?" 

"  It  is  very  ugly,"  the  young  baroness  gravely  replied,  look- 
ing up  at  him  with  naive  frankness. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  189 

Otto  could  not  but  smile  "I  believe  you  are  right,"  he 
replied.  "  But  we  will  build  another,  as  beautiful  as  you  de- 
sire. You  shall  plan  it  all  yourself,  and  we  will  come  every 
day  and  watch  the  progress  of  the  work.  Shall  you  like 
that?" 

The  girl's  face  lit  up  with  delight. 

"  That  will  be  charming!"  she  cried.  "  If  I  am  to  arrange 
and  select,  the  house  will  be  the  finest  in  all  the  country 
round !  I  remember  some  of  those  Italian  villas — of  course 
we  could  only  imitate  them  in  so  far  as  would  be  comfortable 
in  our  Northern  winters.  But  the  new  house  must  be  nearer 
the  forest  than  this,  that  we  may  have  fine  trees  for  the 
park." 

"  Do  you  intend  building  again,  Otto  ?"  the  canoness  frigidly 
inquired.  "  I  had  heard  nothing  of  it !  And  in  such  hard 
times  as  the  present !  It  is  a  pity  that  Frilulein  von  Arning 
does  not  approve  of  your  home ;  but  I  must  beg  you  to  re- 
member, my  dear  Frilulein,  that  Ermsdal  was  a  desert  when 
my  nephew  first  came  here  to  live,  and  its  rents  are  still  far 
from  amounting  to  those  of  Buchdorf " 

Beatrice  blushed  crimson.  "  Forgive  me,  I  did  not  mean 
to  presume,"  the  poor  girl  stammered  ;  "  I  think — nay,  I  am 
sure,  that  I  could  be  very  happy  in  this  house." 

Ilcr  mother  was  about  to  make  a  much  less  modest  reply, 
but  Otto  spoke  before  she  could  begin. 

"  This  house  has  served  our  purpose.  Aunt  Bernhardine," 
he  said,  with  a  frown  ;  "  that  is,  it  has  sufficed  for  the  retired 
life  we  have  led.  It  would  not  be  at  all  suitable  for  a  gay 
young  bride.  Besides,  I  have  managed  my  property  alone  for 
so  long,  and  I  flatter  myself  with  a  fair  degree  of  success, 
that  I  think  you  may  safely  leave  its  management  entirely  to 
me  for  the  future." 

An  embarrassing  silence  followed  these  words.  The  canoness 
did  not  reply,  but  took  up  her  knitting  again,  with  a  few  words 


190  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

of  apology  for  doing  so,  and  appeared  absorbed  in  the  click  of 
her  needles. 

The  whole  scene  was  utterly  distasteful  to  Frau  von  Arning, 
and  to  put  an  end  to  it  she  suddenly  displayed  an  interest  in 
what  was  going  on  in  the  court-yard,  and  expressed  a  desire 
to  see  it  more  closely.  Otto  of  course  accompanied  her, 
and  Theresa  expected  that  Beatrice  would  follow  them,  but 
the  poor  child  had  set  for  herself  the  impossible  task  of  win- 
ning Fraulein  von  Tretten's  approval,  and  remained  with  the 
canoness. 

Bernhardine  said  nothing,  and  Beatrice  was  in  vain  en- 
deavouring to  think  of  some  subject  of  conversation,  when  the 
canoness  arose  and  took  out  of  the  cupboard  in  the  corner  a 
huge  bundle  of  woollen  yarn  which  she  made  ready  to  wind. 
Beatrice  timidly  offered  to  hold  the  skeins. 

A  keen  glance  accompanied  the  reply  to  her  offer.  "  Oh. 
indeed — have  you  no  work,  my  dear?" 

Beatrice  stammered  something  about  "  a  short  visit,"  and 
"  forgetting." 

''  Very  well.  Here  is  the  yarn  ;  there,  now,  the  other  hand ; 
a  little  tighter,  if  you  please.  You  must  excuse  me  for  not 
interrupting  my  work,  but  the  mistress  at  Ermsdal  has  no 
time  to  waste.  I  rise  at  four,  and  go  instantly  to  the  dairy — 
A  little  tighter,  my  dear.  Your  present  dress  would  hardly 
be  suitable  for  my  duties ;  not  only  because  it  would  be  too 
extravagant,  but  because  it  would  consume  so  much  time  in 
putting  on ;  for,  from  the  dairy  I  go  to  the  kitchen-garden, 
and  then  to  the  kitchen  and  cellar  ;  the  afternoon  is  for  spin- 
ning and  knitting.  So  the  days  pass.  The  best  adornment  of 
the  mistress  of  a  household  should  be  neatness  and  order  in 
her  domain,  and  the  money  which  her  economy  saves  weekly. 
I  have  had  a  lifetime  of  experience,  and  know  that  these 
principles  are  the  only  ones  worth  having — But,  my  dear,  you 
are  letting  the  yarn  slip  off  your  hands." 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  191 

Beatrice's  arm  felt  paralyzed,  and  tears  filled  her  eyes.  Was 
this  really  the  picture  of  her  future  life?  Should  she  one  day 
stand  in  the  desolate  room  thus,  in  spotless  cap  and  coarse 
woollen  dress,  her  only  joy  the  money  accumulated  by  her 
economy  ? 

She  looked  longingly  towards  the  door.  Where  was  her  be- 
trothed ?  She  felt  absolutely  desolate  and  lonely  here.  And, 
as  if  her  eyes  had  power  to  summon  him,  Otto  made  his 
appearance  at  the  moment.  The  spectacle  that  met  his  gaze 
did  not  seem  greatly  to  edify  him.  He  frowned,  and  cast  a 
glance  towards  the  canoness  that  made  Beatrice  tremble.  She 
had  never  seen  him  look  thus  before. 

"  What  are  you  two  doing  here?"  he  asked,  taking  the  yarn 
from  Beatrice's  hands  without  more  ado,  and  hanging  it  on 
the  back  of  a  chair.  *'  Aunt  Bernhardine,  I  think  it  is  time 
for  some  refreshment." 

"  It  has  been  awaiting  you  for  some  moments,"  the  canoness 
replied,  going  towards  the  door.  "  If  the  ladies  will  step  into 
the  next  room" — And  she  led  the  way. 

Otto  drew  Beatrice's  arm  within  his  own  with  a  kind  of 
passionate  eagerness.  "  What  has  she  been  doing  to  you,  my 
poor  little  girl  ?"  he  asked,  far  more  tenderly  than  was  his 
wont.  "  Do  not  deny  it — I  know  your  dear  eyes  too  well  not 
to  see  that  you  can  but  just  restrain  your  tears.  Tell  me — 
what  is  it  ?" 

Beatrice  tried  to  smile.  "Nothing  bad,"  she  replied. 
"  Your  aunt  was  only  giving  me  a  lesson  in  my  duties  as 
mistress  of  a  house." 

"  I  thought  so.     She  might  have  spared  herself  the  trouble." 

His  frown  troubled  the  young  baroness,  and  to  soothe  him 
she  said  by  way  of  excuse,  "  It  was  kindness  on  her  part." 

Otto  turned  to  her  with  admiration  glowing  in  his  eyes. 
"  Never  mind,"  he  whispered,  gently.  "  Her  '  kindness'  shall 
not  trouble  you  again." 


192  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

When  the  meal  was  ended,  Frau  von  Arning,  who  felt  very 
much  out  of  place  in  this  household,  took  her  leave.  Otto  as 
well  as  the  canoness  accompanied  the  guests  to  their  carriage, 
but  poor  Beatrice  was  not  allowed  to  leave  Ermsdal  without* 
another  lesson  from  Friiulein  von  Tretten  as  a  reward  for  her 
amiability.  As  they  were  getting  into  the  carriage,  one  of  the 
untiring  knitting-needles  fell  from  Aunt  Bernhardine's  hand 
upon  the  ground.  The  young  girl  instantly  stooped,  picked 
it  up,  and  handed  it  to  the  old  lady  with  a  charming  smile, 
receiving  by  way  of  thanks  the  harsh  remark,  that  it  was  "  sin- 
ful extravagance  to  trail  such  a  costly  dress  in  the  dirt."  True, 
a  warning  look  from  Otto  stopped  further  observations  of  the 
kind,  but  Beatrice  seated  herself  for  the  homeward  drive  much 
depressed  in  spirits,  and  wondering  whether  it  would  ever  be 
possible  for  her  to  live  happily  with  that  old  lady. 

Otto  gazed  after  the  carriage  as  it  rolled  away,  until  Aunt 
Bernhardine's  voice  routed  him  from  his  dreams. 

"A  spoiled  child,"  she  said,  shrugging  her  shoulders;  "a 
little  piece  of  affectation.  However,  she  is  young  and  shy ; 
she  may  yet,  with  strict  training,  be  of  some  use  in  the  house- 
hold." 

Otto  turned  sternly  upon  the  speaker.  "  I  am  glad  you  have 
spoken  upon  this  point,"  he  replied,  "for  it  is  best  that  we 
should  clearly  understand  each  other.  And  I  wish  you  dis- 
tinctly to  comprehend  that  what  I  want  is  a  wife,  not  a  house- 
keeper. You  call  Beatrice  a  child, — a  spoiled  child  :  it  may . 
be  so.  Just  what  she  is,  in  all  her  charming  ingenuousness,  I 
would  have  her  always.  She  shall  never  work  as  I  have  had  to 
do.  As  much  as  lies  in  mortal  power  I  will  do  to  prote.-i  her 
not  only  from  the  tempests  of  life,  but  also  from  its  daily  an- 
noyances. Her  presence  :  hall  bo  i\\:  peaceful  harbour  whither 
I  can  flee  from  the  troubled  waters  of  existence."  He  paused, 
wellnigh  carried  away  by  the  picture  he  was  conjuring  up  in  his 
imagination.      His   aunt's  half-astonished,   half-contemptuous 


A    FA  MIL  y  FEUD.  193 

expression  reminded  liim  that  he  was  speaking  a  tongue  of 
which  Frilulein  von  Tretten  was  ignorant.  He  therefore  con- 
cluded, with  calm  decision.  "  You  will  admit.  Aunt  Bernhar- 
dine,  that  since  we  have  lived  together  T  have  never  criticised 
your  ways  or  your  conduct.  I  demand  the  same  consideration 
on  your  part  for  Beatrice.  The  scene  of  to-day  must  never 
be  repeated.     I  will  not  have  it." 

The  canoness  at  length  found  speech  for  the  amazement 
excited  by  Otto's  words  and  manner. 

"  Good  heavens  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  are  becoming  elo- 
quent. I  have  not  heard  such  a  lengthy  harangue  from  you 
for  years.  It  is  a  fortunate  thing  that  no  one  overheard  you, 
or  it  really  might  have  given  rise  to  the  report  that  the  girl's 
moonlight  eyes  had  turned  your  brain." 

Arning  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  am  never  troubled  by 
reports  about  myself  I  shall  exact  respect  for  my  wife  in 
word  and  deed  from  every  one  upon  my  estates,  from  the 
greatest  to  the  least.  You  know  that  I  mean  what  I  say, 
Aunt  Bernhardine ;  pray  take  my  words  to  heart  if  there  is  to 
be  peace  between  us." 

The  words  sounded  harsh  and  unfilial  towards  a  woman  who 
had  filled  a  mother's  place  to  the  Freiherr  ever  since  his  birth. 
But  we  reap  what  we  sow.  If  it  be  true  that  the  man  of  noble 
mind  honours  as  his  true  friend  the  one  who,  in  the  dark  hour 
when  evil  passions  sway  him,  ever  pleads  with  him  for  the 
right,  it  is  equally  true  that  none  can  honour  one  who  is  but 
the  echo  of  passion  and  who  fans  an  evil  thought  to  a  flame. 
As  soon  as  the  hour  of  passion  has  passed,  repentance  brings 
with  it  a  feeling  of  bitterness  towards  the  tempter.  Such  an 
echo,  such  an  adviser.  Aunt  Bernhardine  had  always  been  to 
her  nephew.  True,  Otto,  even  when  most  carried  away  by 
passion  and  indignation,  had  instinctively  recoiled  from  Frilu- 
lein von  Tretten' s  advice  and  hinted  desires,  but  unconsciously, 
and  against  his  will,  he  had  given  way  to  her  influence  here 
I  17 


194  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

and  there ;  he  was  daily  more  and  more  convinced  of  this, 
and  tliat  without  tliis  evil  genius  by  his  side  his  quarrel  with 
Theresa  would  never  have  been  so  bitter.  This  conviction  did 
not  indeed  lessen  his  own  self-reproach,  but  it  tended  greatly 
to  diminish  his  affection  for  the  only  human  being  who  in  all 
the  phases  of  his  unhappy  life  had  been  faithful  to  him. 


CHAPTEK    XVII. 

The  drive  back  to  Buchdorf  was  not  a  cheerful  one.  It 
seemed  almost  as  if  in  the  hearts  of  the  mother  and  daughter 
there  was  a  foreboding  of  the  misfortune  which  was  so  soon 
and  so  unexpectedly  to  assail  them. 

Arrived  at  home,  Frau  von  Arning  found  upon  her  writing- 
table  three  dirty  letters  with  ill-written  addresses,  the  perusal 
of  which  excited  first  disgust,  then  surprise,  and  lastly  utter 
dismay.  Beatrice  watched  with  anxiety  her  mother  grow 
pale  and  paler  as  she  read,  and  start  up  with  an  indignant 
exclamation  when  she  had  finished  the  last  soiled  sheet. 
The  poor  girl's  troubled  inq,uiry,  however,  received  no  reply. 
Theresa's  courage  had  not  yet  failed  her ;  the  strong-willed 
woman  did  not  want  a  confidant  for  her  troubles,  but  help,  and 
help  she  could  not  expect  from  Beatrice. 

"  Send  for  Herr  Warne,"  she  called  out.  "  Oh,  no,  I  forgot — • 
he  is  no  longer  in  Buchdorf.  Then  send  for  Herr  von  Tannen. 
Tell  him  I  beg  him  to  come  to  me  instantly, — but  stay,  per- 
haps I  had  better  go  to  him  myself."  And  gathering  up  the 
letters,  she  sprang  into  the  carriage,  which  had  not  yet  driven 
from  the  door.  "  To  Wingen,  as  quickly  as  you  can !"  she 
ordered  the  coachman,  without  even  allowing  the  horses  a  rest. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  195 

Scarcely  two  hours  afterwards  the  baroness  presented  her- 
self before  Herr  von  Tannen  in  his  comfortable  sanctum. 

"  Tell  me,  for  God's  sake,  what  has  happened,  madarae  ?" 
the  old  baron  said,  terrified  at  her  troubled  aspect  and  agitated 
demeanour. 

Instead  of  replying,  Frau  von  Arning  held  out  to  him  the 
letters  she  had  received.  Their  contents  were  similar,  and  set 
forth  the  demands  of  Messrs.  Aaron,  Levi,  and  Katzenberg, 

three  well-known  money-lenders  in  M ,  that  the  Baroness 

von  Arning  should  immediately  repay  the  sums  borrowed  of 
them  at  such  and  such  dates  under  her  own  hand  and  seal, 
for  which  sums  she  had  pledged  her  estate  of  Buehdorf. 
Each  concluded  with  a  remonstrance  addressed  to  Frau  von 
Arning  for  applying,  without  informing  the  writer,  to  two 
other  money-lenders,  when  only  the  assurance  that  the  prop- 
erty pledged  was  free  from  incumbrance  would  have  procured 
her  the  large  loan  required.  The  aggregate  of  all  these  loans 
at  their  high  rate  of  interest  amounted  to  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands. A  copy  of  the  baroness's  note  of  hand  was  appended 
to  each  letter,  which  concluded  with  a  threat  of  resorting  to 
legal  measures  if  the  payment  in  full  were  not  made  in  the 
course  of  three  weeks. 

With  a  melancholy  shake  of  the  head,  Tannen  examined 
the  mysterious  papers. 

"  And  you  have  not  borrowed  this  money  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  a  single  thaler,  as  heaven  is  my  witness." 

"  Ilm,  hm  !  strange,  very  strange  ;  the  rascals  seem  quite 
sure  of  their  case.  Is  it  possible,  madame,  that  you  can  have 
let  any  paper  leave  your  hands  which  has  been  taken  advan- 
tage of  by  these  blood-suckers  ?" 

"  Never ;  never  a  note  nor  a  signature,  except "     A 

sudden  flash  of  consciousness  shot  through  Theresa's  mind. 
"  V^es,  I  have  given  Warne  from  time  to  time  my  signature 
to  certain  blank  formulas  which  he  assured  me  were  leases, 


196  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

etc.  But  I  never  will  believe  he  could  so  misuse  my  confi- 
dence." 

"He  has  misused  it,"  Tannen  replied,  decidedly.  "He 
and  no  other  is  the  perpetrator  of  this  monstrous  fraud.     I 

always  told  you  to  beware  of  him,  and Well,  that  is 

past  now,  and  cannot  help  matters.  Send  for  him  and  call  him 
to  account." 

"  He  left  my  house  two  weeks  ago,"  the  baroness  dejectedly 
replied. 

"  Without  leaving  any  address,  of  course.  Proof  sufficient. 
Let  me  pray  you,  my  dear  friend,  not  to  agitate  yourself  thus. 
Take  courage ;  the  coming  day  will  shed  light  on  this  afhiir. 
Have  we  not  already  found  a  clue  ?  Nothing  further  can  be 
done  to-day,  so  have  patience." 

The  old  man  expended  all  his  eloquence,  and  fitially  induced 
Theresa  to  wait  until  the  nest  day,  and  for  the  present  to 
return  quietly  to  Buchdorf 

Beatrice  met  her  on  the  threshold,  pale  and  agitated.  Her 
mother  reproached  herself  for  having  left  her  darling  without 
a  word  of  consolation.  She  now  declared  that  her  excitement 
was  the  consequence  of  a  mistake  of  her  own,  and  that  Baron 
von  Tannen  was  coming  on  the  morrow  to  set  matters  straight. 
Beatrice  retired  to  bed  entirely  soothed  and  content. 

The  next  day  Tannen  rode  over  early,  and  spent  the  morn- 
ing closeted  with  the  baroness,  going  over  the  steward's  books 
and  accounts.  The  result  was  most  disastrous,  as  Tannen 
had  foreseen  from  the  first.  However  certain  Theresa  might 
be  of  the  steward's  guilt,  Warne  was  far  too  cunning  a 
knave  to  have  furnished  her  with  any  handle  for  legal  pro- 
ceedings against  him,  even  had  she  known  where  he  was  to  be 
found.  His  books  were  faultless  ;  there  was  a  kind  of  mock- 
ery in  their  exactitude,  showing  as  it  did  with  cynical  frank- 
ness the  yearly  depreciation  of  the  property.  Some  loans 
were  not  signed,  but  were  explained   thus :    "  5000   thalers 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  197 

for  interest;"  and  again,  "3000  tlialers  forFrauvon  Arning's 
private  expenses;"  "  2000  do.  ;  1600  sent  to  her  in  Switzer- 
land." 

Frau  von  Arning  distinctly  remembered  receiving  these 
last  sums.  According  to  the  books  her  expenses  far  exceeded 
her  income.  If  then  she  had  actually  used  more  money  than 
her  estates  would  yield,  it  must  have  been  procured  elsewhere  ; 
there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that.  Warne  had  laid  his  plans 
well  in  thus  contriving  to  make  his  mistress  his  accomplice, 
for  who  would  believe  that  she  knew  nothing  of  these  loans, 
or  of  the  state  of  her  own  finances?  Of  course  not  one- 
half  of  the  money  had  gone  through  her  hands,  as  was  clear 
from  the  fact  that  the  steward  had  passed  in  a  few  years 
from  poverty  to  a  state  of  competency.  But  there  was  no 
possibility  of  founding  any  accusation  of  him  upon  this  fact, 
for  he  asserted,  and  a  legal  document  verified  this  assertion, 
that  he  had  inherited  from  his  father  the  money  which  he 
possessed. 

With  a  deep-drawn  sigh,  Baron  Tannen  pushed  aside  the 
books  and  papers  that  had  occupied  him  for  eight  long  hours, 
and  when  Theresa  asked  anxiously,  "  Tannen,  my  best,  my 
only  friend,  tell  me,  what  must  I,  what  can  I  do  ?"  he  replied, 
"  Pay,  dear  madanie,  pay.  God  grant  that  cursed  scoundrel 
his  due  reward  !  But  there  is  nothing  else  for  you  to  do.  If 
the  notes  of  those  usurers  are  as  correct  as  their  copies  and 
these  books,  there  is  no  course  to  be  taken  except  payment  of 
the  whole  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  baroness  leaned  heavily  upon  the  table  at  which  she 
stood.     "  And  if  I  cannot  pay?" 

Tannen  knew  that  she  could  not,  and  sat  mute  with  dowu- 
cast  eyes. 

•'  They  say  in  their  letters  that  I  have  pledged  Buchdorf," 
the  baroness  continued  slowly,  and  emphasizing  each  word. 
"  Then  I  must  resign  Buchdorf" 

17* 


198  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  Would  to  God  I  could  give  you  other  help  than  mere 
words!''  the  good  old  baron  cried,  springing  up  from  his  seat; 
"  but  my  hands  are  tied.  My  property  consists  chiefly  of  the 
two  estates  which  I  made  over  to  my  sons  last  year,  and  I 
have  not  at  my  command  any  sum  which  even  approximates 
the  amount  of  your  indebtedness.  But  do  not  lose  courage. 
Nothing  is  lost  as  yet,  dear  madame.  Let  me  advise  you  to 
consult  Otto.  He  will  feel  honoured  by  your  confidence,  and, 
besides,  he  is  the  only  human  being  who  can  help  you  in 
this  emergency ;  he  is  rich,  independent,  understands  men 
and  things,  and  knows  how  to  deal  with  them.  Therefore,  if 
you  can  only  so  far  overcome  your  pride  as  to " 

"  Never !"  All  the  powerless  but  invincible  pride  of  the 
woman's  nature  was  evident  in  this  one  word. 

Tannen  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  quietly  determined 
himself  to  apprise  Otto  of  the  condition  of  affairs.  He  con- 
soled the  distressed  baroness  as  much  as  lay  in  his  power  by 
hinting  at  the  possibility  of  some  legal  error  in  the  Jews' 
notes,  or,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  of  some  composition 
of  the  debt.  The  kindly  old  man  had  been  prepared  for  tears 
and  passionate  regrets,  and  the  mute,  stony  resignation  with 
which  the  baroness  listened  to  his  words  of  consolation  without 
heeding  their  import,  distressed  and  terrified  him. 

After  a  long  while  the  beautiful  woman's  compressed  lips 
parted  to  utter  wearily  the  words,  "  What  do  you  think  of 
me,  Tannen  ?" 

The  question  cut  the  baron  to  the  heart.   "  My  dear  friend." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  think  of  mc,"  Theresa  repeated  pas- 
sionately. "  What  do  you  think  of  a  mother  who  watches  over 
her  child  with  such  anxiety  that  she  heaps  suspicion  upon  an 
innocent  man  because  he  does  not  seem  to  accord  that  child 
the  amount  of  affection  the  mother  believes  her  entitled  to, 
and  who  then  with  her  own  hand  plunges  her  daughter  into 
misery?" 


A   FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  199 

"  Not  by  her  own  fault,"  the  baron  ventured  to  interpose. 

"  By  my  own  fault ;  that  you  know  as  well  as  I,  Herr 
von  Tannen.  Why  hesitate  to  say  so  ?  There  lie  the  books 
where  the  whole  fraud  has  been  clearly  shown  with  matchless 
arrogance  for  years.  I  needed  only  to  examine  them,  and  it 
was  my  duty  to  do  so  !  But  the  wretch  knew  me — my  frivol- 
ity, my  weakness — only  too  well ;  he  knew  how  far  he  might 
defy  me,  and  repaid  my  blind  confidence  in  his  honesty  in  the 
coin  which  it  merited." 

Tannen  could  not  reply  to  this  passionate  self-accusation  on 
the  part  of  the  unhappy  woman,  who  had  sunk  again  into  her 
former  apathy.  The  early  winter  evening  was  rapidly  ap- 
proaching, and  it  was  time  for  him  to  return  to  his  home,  lest 
his  family  should  be  anxious.  Still,  he  did  not  wish  to  leave 
the  baroness  alone. 

"  Beatrice  must  know  all  this,  madame,"  he  said,  decidedly. 
"  I  will  send  her  to  you.  Promise  me  to  tell  the  child  the 
whole  matter  to-night." 

The  baroness  made  no  reply,  but  her  face  expressed  such 
pain  and  horror  that  Tannen  saw  clearly  that  she  would  not 
undertake  the  task  proposed.  He  therefore  took  it  upon  him- 
self to  inform  Beatrice  of  the  sad  turn  aifairs  had  taken.  To 
his  extreme  surprise,  she  received  with  a  degree  of  calm  bor- 
dering on  indiiFerence  the  information  which  he  gave  her 
with  great  hesitation  and  reluctance.  How  should  she  under- 
stand what  poverty  meant?  She  knew  of  the  misery  which 
it  brings  only  from  bf  oks,  where  it  was  for  the  most  part 
invested  with  a  poetic  interesi:  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  real 
life.  Only  when  Tannen  spoke  of  her  mother's  despair  did 
she  seem  distressed,  and  immediately  she  hurried  to  seek  her 
out.  But  her  appearance  did  not,  as  the  baron  had  hoped, 
have  the  effect  of  soothing  the  wretched  woman's  woe.  Of 
all  people  on  earth  her  daughter  was  the  one  the  sight  of 
whom  the  baroness  could  at  present  the  least  endure.     As 


200  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

soon  as  she  saw  her  she  fled  to  her  own  apartment,  where  she 
locked  her  doors  and  refused  to  open  them  even  at  Beatrice's 
tearful  entreaty.  She  did  not  hear  the  words  of  comfort 
uttered  by  her  child  ;  they  were  drowned  by  the  loud  accusing 
voice  of  conscience. 

"  It  is  not  for  myself,"  she  thought  with  a  shudder.  "  I  knew 
poverty  in  ray  youth ;  its  face  is  familiar  to  me.  But  Beatrice  ? 
She  has  been  bred  in  a  luxury  which  I  am  condemned  to 
snatch  from  her.  And  Buchdorf  sold  !  In  Italy,  surrounded 
by  the  wealth  of  nature  and  art,  she  was  homesick  for  thi.s 
spot.  How  can  she  endure  to  leave  it,  beggared,  perhaps  to 
see  its  beauty  disfigured  by  rude  hands  ?  Will  she  be  able  to 
survive  it?" 

When  Beatrice  received  no  answer  to  her  loving  words  she 
became  alarmed.  Had  her  mother  fainted  ?  or  might  she  not 
in  her  despair  do  herself  a  mischief?  Terrible  fancies  assailed 
the  young  girl's  brain,  and  there  was  no  means  of  procuring 
access  to  the  unhappy  woman.  Beatrice  looked  around  the 
elegant  boudoir  where  she  stood,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  felt  really  helpless  and  forsaken.  She  thought  of  Otto, 
and  involuntarily  her  lips  softly  uttered  the  words,  "  If  he  were 
here  he  would  know  what  to  do."  She  did  not  know  how  he 
could  help  her,  but  in  her  perfect  confidence  in  him  she  felt 
convinced  that  he  could  do  so.  She  determined  to  send  a 
messenger  to  him.  In  four  hours  he  could  be  at  Buchdorf. 
Four  hours  was,  to  be  sure,  a  long  time  to  wait ;  but  "  better 
late  than  never,"  she  thought,  as  she  hurried  out  to  send  a 
servant  upon  her  errand. 

Below  in  the  court-yard  men  and  maids  were  crowded 
together,  gossiping;  they  already  surmised  something  of  the 
impending  disaster.  Detached  words  and  phrases  of  their  talk 
fell  upon  the  girl's  ear  as  she  stood  in  the  comdor,  and  seemed 
to  her  like  the  mad,  disconnected  sentences  of  the  fantastic 
creations  of  a  feverish  dream. 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  201 

"  Old  Friedricli  was  right ;  there  is  to  be  an  end  of  all  this 
fine  living." 

"  Did  you  see  Herr  von  Tannen  ride  off?" 

"  The  old  baron  looked  sad  enough." 

"  We  needn't  be  so,  at  all  events,  to  have  the  stranger 
baroness,  with  her  freaks  and  whims,  sent  off  to  where  she 
came  from." 

"  I  think,  for  my  part " 

"  Nonsense !  I  tell  you  Master  Otto  will  never  let  Buch- 
dorf  come  to  the  hammer." 

"  Well,  the  Lord  will  see  to  it " 

"  And  high  time  he  did !  Buchdorf  does  not  look  like 
itself  any  more." 

"  Were  you  ever  at  Ermsdal  ?" 

"  Every  day-labourer  there  has  his  cow." 

"  And  a  full  hay-rick." 

"  Yes,  it  was  always  better  under  the  Von  Arnings ;  they 
were  born  here  and  belong  to  us." 

"  Things  never  go  right  when  people  care  more  for  their 
park  than  for  their  fields." 

"  Or  when  they  use  their  men  for  letter-carriers  and  grooms 
instead  of  sending  them  to  plough." 

Beatrice  blushed.  It  was  the  first  time  that  any  of  her 
youthful  illusions  had  been  dispelled,  and  it  was  a  bitter  ex- 
perience. But  instead  of  depressing  her  the  lesson  aroused 
her  slumbering  pride.  She  silently  wrapped  herself  in  a  dark 
cloak,  hid  her  heavy  braids  beneath  a  hood,  and  went  down 
stairs.  She  could  not  send  one  of  those  men  upon  her  errand. 
The  hour  for  quitting  work  had  struck ;  she  would  not  impose 
upon  them  her  "  freaks  and  whims."  But  as,  without  a  word, 
she  passed  through  the  court-yard,  there  was  such  dignity  in 
her  carriage  and  such  resolve  in  her  pale  face,  that  the  boldest 
of  the  servants  respectfully  withdrew. 

The  ground  had  been  lightly  frozen  through  the  day,  but 
I* 


202  A   FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

now  the  skies  had  become  overcast,  and  a  southern  wind  was 
driving  before  it  masses  of  snow-clouds.  Beatrice  never  heeded 
the  signs  of  the  weather ;  she  hurried  aci'oss  the  bare  fields, 
through  the  leafless  woods.  She  could  fetch  help  sooner  and 
more  surely  than  could  be  done  by  either  horse  or  wagon. 
Only  a  league  lay  between  her  and  Ermsdal,  if  she  could  bring 
herself  to  cross  the  moor.  And  why  should  not  the  frozen 
ground  bear  her  footsteps  ?  Had  she  not  traversed  it  as  a 
child  unharmed,  although  the  soil  was  drenched  with  heavy 
rains  ?  The  undertaking  was  not  half  so  dangerous  as  the 
peasants  fancied ;  she  had  often  watched  the  dreary  waste  from 
her  window,  whence  it  looked  quite  easy  to  cross. 

When,  however,  she  reached  the  edge  of  the  forest  and 
found  herself  alone  amid  the  quiet  wintry  landscape,  before 
the  dreary  waste  on  the  horizon  of  which  the  moon  was  rising 
ghostly  and  pale  amid  torn  and  flying  clouds,  she  shuddered 
and  involuntarily  paused.  She  was  still  firmly  resolved,  but 
no  longer  cheerfully  self-confident ;  she  clasped  her  hands  and 
looked  upwards  to  the  clouded  skies,  as  if  invoking  heaven's 
protection  upon  her  perilous  walk. 

Suddenly  she  felt  a  light  touch  upon  her  shoulder,  and  a 
voice  asked,  "  Shall  I  show  you  the  way  across,  white  dove  ?" 

Turning,  startled,  Beatrice  saw  at  her  side  Moorland  Elsie, 
her  arms  and  feet  bare  as  upon  the  warmest  day  in  July,  while 
on  her  head  she  wore  only  a  wreath  of  ivy,  its  dark  berries 
drooping  on  either  side  of  her  swarthy  brow. 

Her  terror  speedily  vanished  ;  Elsbeth  was  the  only  creature 
who  could  be  of  service  to  her,  and  fortunately  she  seemed 
willing  to  help. 

"  I  must  go  over  to  Ermsdal !"  she  said,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief;  "  and  I  will  be  more  grateful  to  you  than  I  can  tell 
if  you  will  guide  me  thither." 

Brown  Elsie  looked  down  with  a  frown ;  she  clenched  her 
hand,  and  an  evil  smile  hovered  about  her  mouth.     But  Bea- 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  203 

trice  never  observed  these  signs  as  her  companion  clasped  her 
wrist  and  drew  her  along  with  her,  saying,  "  Come,  then." 

Without  another  word  she  walked  on  so  quickly  that  the 
young  baroness  could  scarcely  keep  pace  with  her.  And  the 
ground,  too,  was  much  softer  than  she  had  thought  to  find  it ; 
whenever  she  did  not  follow  exactly  in  Elsie's  footprints,  her 
foot  would  slip  in  above  the  ankle  ;  she  was  obliged  to  concen- 
ti-;ite  all  her  attention  upon  where  she  was  stepping,  and  had 
no  time  to  address  a  word  to  her  mute  companion. 

Nearly  an  hour  was  consumed  in  thus  wearily  wandering  on 
the  waste,  and  as  yet  no  friendly  twinkle  of  light  indicated  the 
situation  of  Ermsdal.  The  bell  in  a  distant  tower  tolled  the 
hour  ;  its  tone  rang  clear  and  sweet  across  the  moorland  ;  to 
Beatrice  it  came  as  a  warning  cry.  Where  could  she  be  ? 
The  sound  of  the  bell  was  unfamiliar  to  her  ears ;  it  did  not 
come  either  from  Ermsdal  or  from  Buchdorf.  What  if  the 
inexplicable  creature  by  her  side  were  wilfully  leading  her 
astray  ?  Whither  should  she  turn  for  help  ?  Around  her 
nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the  wide,  swampy  moor. 

Again  Beatrice  looked  to  heaven,  as  if  for  aid,  and,  lo !  it 
made  answer  to  her  prayer.  The  black  clouds  above  her  had 
scattered,  the  stars  were  shining  with  wintry  splendour  in  the 
steadfast  blue,  and  she  knew  that  she  had  been  deceived. 

For  upon  the  heavenly  pathway  leading  from  her  chamber 
window  to  Ermsdal,  every  star  was  as  familiar  to  her  as  the 
trees  in  the  park  where  she  had  grown  up,  and  now  when  she 
looked  towards  the  skies  the  conviction  fell  with  icy  certainty 
upon  her  heart  that  she  had  been  wilfully  misled  by  her  guide. 
Ermsdal  lay  far  distant  on  the  right,  and  they  were  rapidly 
approaching  the  most  dangerous  and  dreaded  portion  of  the 
moor,  concerning  which  a  thousand  terrible  legends  were  rife 
among  the  peasantry. 

Beatrice  stood  still.  "  I  will  not  go  one  step  farther,"  she 
declared.     "  Elsbeth,  you  are  leading  me  astray.     This  is  not 


204  A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

the  way  to  Ernisdal ;  tlic  estate  lies  there,  and  we  are  going 
directly  towards  the  '  Black  Swamp.' " 

The  brown  sprite  gazed  at  her  in  surprise  and  confusion  for 
one  moment,  and  then  laughed  jeeringly.  "  If  you  know  the 
moor  so  well,  go  yourself  where  you  please  !"  And  tossing  from 
her  Beatrice's  hand,  which  she  had  still  held  in  her  own, 
Moorland  Elsie  turned  and  ran  like  a  deer  over  the  marshy 
soil. 

"  Elsbeth  !"  the  young  baroness  called  after  her,  in  vain 
trying  to  follow  her  ;  at  the  first  step  she  sank  in  water  to  her 
knee.  She  succeeded  indeed  in  extricating  herself  without 
much  trouble  and  in  reaching  her  former  position,  a  spot  of 
firm  ground  about  three  feet  in  diameter,  but  what  had  she 
gained?  The  prospect  of  spending  a  long  winter's  night  in 
wet  clothing  alone  on  a  wild  moor  could  be  tempting  to  no 
one,  least  of  all  to  a  girl  fostered  in  luxury.  And  how  her 
poor  mother  would  suffer  in  missing  her !  The  child  would 
have  been  more  than  woman  not  to  do  as  she  did  in  view  of 
this  fresh  misfortune, — seek  relief  in  a  burst  of  tears. 

About  an  hour  before  these  occurrences,  old  Stina  had  re- 
turned from  a  long  absence  to  the  hut  on  the  edge  of  the 
moor.  Her  back  was  bending  under  a  load  of  fagots  gathered 
in  the  forest ;  she  leaned,  groaning,  upon  her  crutch-handled 
stick  ;  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  crone's  strength  was  wellnigh 
spent.  But  there  was  no  one  to  assist  her.  Elsbeth  was  wan- 
dering somewhere  in  the  forest,  and  her  grandmother,  if  she 
would  not  die  of  cold,  was  forced  to  seek  her  daily  fuel  in  the 
Repach  woods. 

The  old  woman  paused  beneath  the  stunted  birch  and 
coughed,  and  then  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  True, 
Mother  Stina  was  not  the  softest  of  her  sex,  but  to-day  a 
strange  weakness  had  seized  her,  and  she  would  have  given 
much  for  the  touch  of  a  kindly  hand.  She  had  borne  children, 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  205 

many  children ;  but  where  were  they  ?  Dead,  or  scattered 
through  the  world.  There  was  none  to  take  pity  upon  her  age. 
Was  she  cursed  ?  Was  it,  as  she  herself  had  said,  the  just 
punishment  of  her  sins?  The  woman  sank  on  her  knees;  she 
could  bear  no  further  the  weight  of  the  burden  on  her  back, 
and  perhaps  of  some  memory  of  her  ill-spent  life.  She  buried 
licr  face  in  her  withered  hands  and  groaned  aloud.  Suddenly 
she  heard  a  low  mew  by  her  side,  soft  fur  pressed  against  her 
hands,  and  looking  up  she  saw  the  black  cat,  the  faithful 
companion  of  so  many  of  her  weary  hours.  In  summer  or 
■winter,  rain  or  snow,  this  animal  awaited  its  mistress  at  this 
hour  beneath  this  stunted  tree,  and  as  it  now  crept  close  to 
her,  purring  loudly,  it  seemed  longing  to  express  some  sym- 
pathy. Mother  Stina  turned  to  it  with  a  caress ;  it  was  the 
only  earthly  being  who  looked  to  her  for  kindness  and  with 
kindness. 

When'Elsbeth  came  home,  a  bright  fire  was  crackling  upon 
the  hearth,  and  the  tallow  candle  cast  a  flickering  light  over 
the  old  woman,  who  lay  upon  the  bed,  breathing  heavily  in  an 
uneasy  sleep,  while  the  cat  wandered  mewing  about  the  room. 
He  was  the  sole  guardian  of  the  lonely  hut,  which  in  truth 
needed  no  other, — for  who  would  dream  that  old  Stina  pos- 
sessed anything  worth  the  stealing? 

But  Elsbeth's  sharp  eyes  espied  the  key  of  the  gaily-painted 
chest  left  for  once  sticking  in  the  key-hole.  Without  even 
looking  towards  her  grandmother,  whose  extreme  weakness 
alone  could  have  occasioned  such  neglect  with  regard  to  her 
cherished  depository,  the  girl  with  one  noiseless  bound  stood 
before  the  object  of  her  life-long  curiosity. 

The  key  turned  with  a  creak  ;  the  painted  lid  was  lifted. 
Elsbeth  took  the  candle,  and  began  with  breathless  eagerness 
to  investigate  the  contents  of  the  chest.  On  top  lay  piles  of 
rags,  but  beneath  them  was  a  small  paste-board  box, — how 
heavy  it  was  ! — this  alone  was  worth  the  trouble  of  the  search. 

18 


206  A    FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

Elsbeth  poised  it  on  the  palm  of  her  little  hand,  when  sud- 
denly the  old,  worn  sides  gave  way,  and  shining  yellow  coins 
rolled  clinking  and  glittering  hither  and  thither  upon  the 
mud  floor  of  the  hut. 

The  girl  did  not  pause  to  collect  the  coin ;  she  eagerly  pur- 
sued her  search,  for  a  certain  instinct  told  her  that  she  had  not 
yet  discovered  what  she  should  most  prize, — the  goose  that 
laid  such  golden  eggs  for  old  Stina. 

What  was  this  which  she  dragged  forth  from  among  the 
rags  ?  With  a  cry  of  savage  joy,  she  sprang  to  her  feet.  Ah  ! 
here  was  the  solution  of  the  riddle  which  had  so  puzzled  her 
all  these  years.  Here  was  the  explanation  of  the  strange  tie 
between  her  grandmother  and  the  reserved  misanthropic  master 
of  Ermsdal !  Warne,  too,  must  have  known  of  this  secret,  and 
by  his  knowledge  had  ruled  the  obstinate  old  woman  with  a 
rod  of  iron.  In  an  instant  all  that  Elsbeth  had  watched  and 
waited  and  longed  to  understand  lay  clear  before  her.  The 
characters  and  motives,  the  ends  and  aims  of  the  various  per- 
sonages who  filled  the  drama  of  her  life  were  illuminated  as 
by  the  light  of  the  sun.  True,  what  she  had  found  would 
have  possessed  but  small  interest  to  the  uninitiated  ;  it  con- 
sisted only  of  a  white  embroidered  child's  dress,  yellow  with 
age,  and  a  little  brown  kid  shoe,  bound  with  a  delicate  golden 
chain  at  the  end  of  which  dangled  a  small  sparkling  cross ; 
that  was  all.  But  to  Elsie,  who  had  forgotten  nothing  that 
she  had  ever  known  of  the  lives  of  those  whose  faces  had  been 
familiar  to  her  from  childhood,  these  articles  were  of  inde- 
scribable significance.  Triumphantly  she  held  her  treasure 
aloft,  when  suddenly  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  bed,  and  involun- 
tarily she  recoiled. 

The  old  woman  had  propped  herself  up  on  her  elbow,  and 
her  light-blue  eyes  stared  at  her  grandchild  with  a  look  of  such 
horror  that  even  that  bold  girl  felt  her  blood  for  an  instant 
curdle  in  her  veins.     Kage,  hate,  and  a  nameless  terror,  every- 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  207 

tiling  that  the  labouring  breast  in  vain  strove  to  give  utterance 
to,  lay  in  the  gaze  of  those  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Els,"  she  gasped  at  last,  struggling  for  breath,  "  Els,  shut 
up  the  money  again.  It  is  not  mine.  I  am  a  poor,  poor  old 
woman.  Els.     Be  a  good  child." 

It  was  a  sign  of  her  excessive  weakness,  that  she  asked  al- 
most as  a  favour  what  she  would  once  have  demanded  with 
blows. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  Elsbeth  replied,  picking  up  some  of  the 
gold  and  letting  it  slip  through  her  fingers.  "  How  they  glit- 
ter! No  one  can  see  the  drop  of  blood  on  each  of  the  shining 
things !  Don't  be  afraid — I  don't  want  your  money,  granny. 
I  have  here  a  wishing-cap  that  will  bring  me  what  I  like  much 
better." 

With  an  expression  of  despairing  terror,  old  Stina  gazed  at 
her  tormentor.  "  You  must  not  suspect.  Els,"  she  moaned — 
"  those  rags  are  of  no  consequence — it  is  only — only  a " 

"  Only  the  feathers  of  the  white  dove  which  the  weasel 
brought  you  to  pluck,"  Elsbeth  mockingly  completed  the 
sentence.  "  Do  not  deny  it — you  cannot.  I  shall  soon  prove 
their  value.  To-morrow  I  will  go  early  to  Ermsdal, — perhaps 
the  Herr  Baron  will  pay  me  some  heed  now,"  she  interposed 
with  a  sneer, — "  and  when  he  has  paid  for  my  silence,  I  will 
go  to  Buchdorf  and  tell  the  pretty  tale  to  his  lovely  bride " 

"  Els,  Els,"  shrieked  her  grandmother,  despair  in  her  voice, 
"  would  you  have  me  die  in  a  jail  ?  Perhaps  on  the  gallows? 
Elsbeth,  my  hair  is  white — I  have  always  taken  care  of  you 
—pity  me,  Els !" 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  must  at  least  know 
all  about  the  matter,"  she  replied.  "  You  had  nothing  to  gain 
by  the  child's  death, — who,  then,  employed  you?" 

"  The  aunt,  Els,"  the  crone  hastily  answered,  "  the  aunt.  I 
peddled  a  little  then,  and  had  sold  laces  to  the  canoncss.  Once 
as  I  was  leaving  her  she  touched  my  shoulder  and  said  in  a 


208  A   FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

whisper,  '  To-night  at  seven.'  Then  she  looked  at  me.  I 
knew,  I  knew  that  I  was  wanted  for  no  good." 

A  terrible  fit  of  cougliing  interrupted  her,  but  Elsbeth 
urged  her  to  go  on.  The  confession  seemed  indeed  to  afford 
Mother  Stina  a  kind  of  relief,  for  as  soon  as  she  could  she 
continued.  "  In  the  evening  when  I  went  to  her  we  settled 
it  all.  She  said  she  spoke  for  her  nephew,  who  would  not 
undertake  it  himself  At  first  I  refused.  You  see,  Els.  chil- 
dren have  a  way  of  looking  so  innocently  into  your  eyes. 
Many  and  many  a  time  I  have  cursed  my  own  brats,  and  yet 
I  brought  them  all  up.  I  said  that  to  the  canoness,  but  she 
promised  me  money  enough  to  keep  me  from  want  all  my  life. 
Well,  your  mother  had  been  lying  ill  for  weeks,  you  were  run- 
ning about  half  naked,  and  winter  was  at  hand.  So  I  said 
yes,  and  went  to  Buchdorf.  But  I  never  harmed  the  child. 
Els,"  the  hag  hastily  added ;  "  I  had  not  the  heart.  The 
man  who  wanted  me  to  kill  so  pretty  a  little  doll  was  a  for 
more  hardened  sinner  than  I.  As  I  was  carrying  the  child  in 
my  arms  over  the  moor  the  thought  came  to  me.  Leave  it  to 
chance.  So  I  took  off  her  dress,  bound  the  little  thing  to  the 
heather,  and  ran  and  ran  until  I  was  in  safety.  I  never  knew 
how  it  had  all  turned  out  until  I  came  back  to  Ermsdal  years 
afterwards.  Our  master  gave  me  this  house  to  live  in ;  he 
never  spoke  to  me  of  the  reason  why,  nor  I  to  him ;  he  did 
not  care  to  talk  of  it,  nor  did  I.  This  is  all,  Els,  all,  so  help 
me  God !     Have  pity.  Els,  and  let  me  die  in  peace." 

"  You  shall,  grandmother,"  Elsbeth  replied.  "  All  that  I 
want  is  revenge.  I  will  force  the  Herr  Baron  now  to  see  mo 
when  he  meets  me.  He  shall  never  lead  his  Avhite  dove  to 
church.  I  will  not  have  it,  and  here  are  the  means  to 
hinder  it!" 

"Why  do  you  want  to  hinder  it,  Els?"  her  grandmother 
weakly  gasped.  "  What  good  will  it  do  you  to  make  the  pooi 
Fraulein  unhappy  ?     For  she  loves  him,  Els,  I  know  it." 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  209 

Moorland  Elsie  tossed  her  head,  on  which  the  wreath  of  ivy 
lay  like  a  crown.  "  And  why  should  she  have  everything  for 
which  it  pleases  her  to  stretch  forth  her  hand  ?"  she  asked, 
wildly.  "  What  better  right  has  she  than  I,  who  never  yet 
saw  one  of  my  desires  fulfilled  ?  Could  she  not  content  her- 
self with  that  silly  boy  ?  I  should  never  have  disputed  her 
possession  of  him.  Who  sent  her  to  cross  my  path  ?  I  told 
you  once  before,  grandmother,  the  master  pleases  me.  And  in 
the  only  teaching  which  the  Herr  Pastor  condescends  to  give 
such  a  creature  as  I,  I  learn  that  it  is  evil  to  take  his  one 
lamb  from  the  poor  man.  I  shall  guard  mine  well.  True," 
she  added,  with  a  bitter  curl  of  her  lip,  "  I  know  only  too 
surely  that  the  haughty  Herr  Baron  will  never  think  of  me  as 
anything  other  than  the  beggar-girl  whom  accident  forces  him 
to  keep  upon  his  laud ;  but  she  shall  not  have  him ;  no,  nor 
any  other  woman  on  this  earth.  I  will  be  his  evil  spirit. 
And  sh^  shall  not  peri.sh  on  the  moor;  she  shall  live  to  feel 
the  sorrow  which  to-morrow  will  bring  her." 

After  these  words,  in  which  she  poured  forth  the  gathered 
hate  and  bitterness  of  years,  Brown  Elsie  hurriedly  picked  up 
the  scattered  money,  thrust  it  back  into  the  chest,  clapped  her 
hands,  and  ran  out  of  the  hut,  while  Mother  Stina  sank  back 
utterly  exhausted  among  her  pillows. 

Two  hours  had  passed  since  Beatrice  had  been  left  alone 
on  the  moor,  and  her  wretchedness  was  almost  more  than  the 
poor  girl  could  endure.  She  shivered  in  the  cold  night  wind, 
her  cheeks  and  eyes  were  swollen  with  tears,  and  in  addition 
she  was  assailed  by  a  host  of  terrors  which  would  have  had  no 
existence  by  the  light  of  day,  but  which  might  have  beset 
even  a  strong  man  alone  and  helpless  on  that  ghastly  waste. 
Suddenly  a  figure  appeared  in  the  dim  light  of  the  clouded 
moon,  it  scarcely  seemed  to  touch  the  ground,  approaching 
rapidly  and  without  the  slightest  hesitation  to  where  Beatrice 
stood. 

18* 


210  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  'Tis  Elsbeth  or  some  sprite,"  Beatrice  thouglit,  pressing 
her  cold  hand  to  her  beating  heart.  A  few  seconds  more,  and 
Brown  Elsie  stood  beside  her. 

"I  will  truly  be  your  guide  now,  white  dove,"  she  said; 
"  not  to  Ermsdal,  indeed,  but  back  to  Buchdorf." 

Beatrice  hesitated  a  moment.  "  What  if  you  mislead  me 
again  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Why,  look  up  to  your  big  map  overhead,  if  you  do  not 
trust  me ;  but  you  need  have  no  fear.  I  will  lead  you  to  the 
third  group  of  trees  on  the  left  of  the  pond  in  Buchdorf  park. 
If  I  do  not,  set  your  dogs  upon  me  to-morrow." 

Beatrice  with  a  sinking  heart  resolved  to  follow  the  strange 
being  whom  she  believed  to  be  not  in  her  right  mind.  She 
feared  some  snare  even  up  to  the  moment  when  Buchdorf  lay 
plainly  in  sight  and  her  foot  touched  dry  ground.  But  her 
guide  proved  trustworthy  this  time.  At  the  spot  she  had 
designated  she  dropped  the  young  baroness's  hand  and  turned 
to  go.  Beatrice  began  to  stammer  some  words  of  thanks  to 
propitiate  the  girl,  but  Elsie  cut  them  short  with  "  Spare  me 
your  thanks,  white  dove ;  to-morrow  at  this  hour  you  will  wish 
you  lay  deep  in  the  moorland  marsh ;  think  then  of  Brown 
Elsie." 

She  vanished  among  the  trees,  while  Beatrice  hurried  as 
fast  as  her  feet  could  carry  her  along  the  familiar  paths  towards 
her  home. 

She  reached  the  house  without  further  peril,  and  found 
every  one  there  in  the  wildest  state  of  anxiety  regarding  her 
absence,  of  which  her  mother  had  become  aware  about  half  an 
hour  previously.  The  torture  Theresa  had  endured  beggars 
description.  But  her  terror  had  so  far  been  of  service  that  it 
had  roused  her  from  her  apathy,  into  which  care  for  Beatrice, 
whose  failing  forces  brought  her  nigh  to  a  fainting-fit,  did  not 
allow  her  to  relapse. 


A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD.  211 


CHAPTER    XVII L 

Aunt  Berniiardine  opened  the  window- shutters  and  piit 
her  gray  head  out  into  the  morning  mist,  through  which  the 
round  red  ball  of  the  sun  was  just  visible.  But  it  was  not 
the  sun  that  attracted  her  gaze ;  Moorland  Elsie  was  crouching 
upon  the  door-step. 

"  Get  up  instantly  and  go  away  !"  the  canoness  said,  in  an 
angry  tone.  "  Do  you  think  our  threshold  is  a  refuge  for 
vagabonds?     What  do  you  want ?"  > 

"  Certainly  not  your  kind  '  good-morning,' "  was  the  insolent 
reply;  "  nor,  indeed,  yourself  at  all.     I  want  the  master." 

"  My  nephew  ?    Indeed  !    And  what  can  yo\i  want  of  him  J"' 

"  Money,  by  your  leave,"  Elsbeth  said,  boldly,  slipping  past 
the  canoness,  as  she  opened  the  door,  into  the  house. 

"Money!"  repeated  Friiulein  von  Tretten,  amazed.  "And 
what  for,  pray,  if  I  may  ask  ?" 

"  You  may  ask,  but  I  would  not  advise  the  master  to  be- 
think himself  what  for  for  too  long  a  time.  I  might  refresh 
his  memory  in  a  way  that  would  not  particularly  please  him." 
As  she  spoke,  Elsbeth  twirled  the  golden  cross  between  her 
fingers,  and  made  as  if  she  would  ascend  the  stairs  to  Otto's 
study. 

But  Aunt  Bernhardine's  bony  fingers  encircled  her  wrist 
like  a  vice.  "  Stay,  girl,"  she  said  under  her  breath  in  great 
agitation.  "  j\Iy  nephew  must  never  see  that  cross,  never ! 
Do  you  understand  me?  I  do  not  know  how  it  came  into 
your  possession.  I  thought  it  was  destroyed  long  ago.  But 
come,  come  with  me.  I  will  give  you  money.  How  much  do 
you  want?     Come  with  me." 


212  A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

As  she  spoke,  slie  drew  Elsie  into  the  sitting-room,  and 
opened  a  drawer  in  which  notes  and  silver  coin  were  arranged 
in  perfect  order.  "How  much  do  you  want?"  the  canoness 
hurriedly  demanded. 

Elsie  saw  clearly  that  her  attempt  to  humiliate  Baron  von 
Arning  must  be  given  up  for  to-day.  Her  anger  at  finding 
her  hope  thus  destroyed  was  lost  in  her  surprise  at  this  unex- 
pected discovery.  What,  the  master  must  not  see  the  cross ! 
Then  he  really  knew  nothing  of  the  crime  that  had  been  com- 
mitted in  his  name !  Such  a  possibility  had  never  occurred 
to  either  Elsbeth  or  old  Stina. 

Hard  as  was  Brown  Elsie's  heart,  it  could  not  but  be  stirred 
oy  a  momentary  pity  for  the  man  so  deceived  by  his  nearest 
relative.  This  better  feeling,  however,  vanished  like  the  light 
of  the  will-o'-the-wisp,  and  she  replied,  insolently,  "  That  kind 
of  money  will  do  me  no  good — silver  is  too  heavy  and  paper 
too  light ;  if  you  really  wish  to  pay  instead  of  the  master,  let 
it  be  in  shining  gold  pieces,  about — how  many  shall  we  say  ? 
One  would  slip  through  the  hole  in  my  pocket,  and  one  hun- 
dred would  tear  the  pocket  out  entirely.  Well,  give  me  a 
good  round  dozen  then,  and  I  will  not  trouble  you  again  this 
year." 

Aunt  Bernhardine  stiffened  with  dismay ;  she  had  hoped  to 
buy  oiF  the  beggar-girl  with  a  few  thalers,  and  only  on  that 
account  had  so  readily  acceded  to  her  demand  for  money. 

"  You  insolent  gipsy  wench  !"  she  exclaimed,  indignantly . 
"  Do  you  suppose  you  can  rob  me  thus  with  impunity  ?  An- 
other word,  and  I  will  have  you  sent  off  from  Ermsdal " 

"  Buchdorf  will  gladly  receive  us,"  Elsbeth  interrupted  her, 
negligently,  as  she  held  up  the  fatal  articles  of  dress  before  the 
eyes  of  the  amazed  canoness. 

Fraulein  von  Tretten's  anger,  so  far  as  any  outward  mani- 
festation of  it  was  concerned,  was  appeased  immediately  by 
Elsbeth's  last  words  as  if  by  a  spell.     It  was,  however,  all  the 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  213 

more  intense  tlius  suppressed,  and  if  she  had  been  a  younger 
woman  there  is  no  saying  what  means  she  might  have  resorted 
to  to  rid  herself  of  so  dangerous  an  accomplice.  She  saw 
clearly  that  not  a  whisper  of  what  the  girl  had  to  tell  must  be 
breathed  at  Buchdorf  She  would  try  to  outwit  her  adversary 
by  apparent  compliance. 

"  I  cannot  immediately  give  you  quite  as  much  as  you  ask," 
she  said,  with  forced  composure.  "  Only  a  few  weeks  ago  I 
paid  your  grandmother  the  twenty-four  pieces  of  gold  which, 
according  to  our  bargain,  were  to  suffice  for  a  year.  It  is 
treachery  on  her  part  to  send  you  to  me  now  with  such  a 
demand.  Nevertheless,  I  would  pay  you  if  I  could.  Be  rea- 
sonable, Elsbeth.  I  will  give  you  three  more  gold  pieces  if 
you  will  wait  three  months.  Look,  everything  that  I  possess 
is  in  this  drawer,  and  my  nephew  must  never  know " 

Strong  as  Aunt  Bernhardine's  nerves  were,  she  here  inter- 
rupted herself  by  what  was  almost  a  shriek.  Otto  was  standing 
in  the  door-way,  his  gun  over  his  shoulder,  in  full  hunting- 
dress,  apparently  just  about  to  leave  the  house.  He  must 
have  heard  the  last  of  the  conversation.  With  a  frown  he 
approached  the  terrified  pair.  "  What  do  you  owe  old  Stina, 
aunt,  that  you  cannot  pay,  and  of  which  I  must  know  nothing? 
And  what  are  these  ?"  he  added,  picking  up  the  articles  which 
Elsbeth,  in  her  confusion  at  his  sudden  appearance,  had  let  fall 
upon  the  table. 

Elsbeth  could  read  men's  faces ;  she  had  looked  on  with 
indifference  at  many  an  outbreak  of  frantic  despair,  but  the 
change  that  passed  over  Otto's  countenance  as  soon  as  he 
had  glanced  at  the  objects  in  his  hand  filled  her  with  horror. 
The  strong  man  grew  whiter  than  the  wall,  and  a  shiver  con- 
vulsed him  as  he  leaned  for  support  upon  the  massive  table. 
He  bent  a  stern,  searching  look  upon  the  canoness,  who  stood 
by  the  open  drawer  the  picture  of  detected  guilt.  A  short 
pause  of  death-like  silence  ensued;  there  are  no  words  for 


214  A   FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

what,  during  that  space  of  time,  passed  in  the  minds  of  the 
two  people  who  had  for  many  years  dwelt  peacefully  beneath 
the  same  roof. 

"  I  wanted  to — sell  those  old  things  to  the  lady,"  Elsbeth 
stammered  at  last.  It  was  the  first  kindly  lie  she  had  ever 
told ;  in  truth,  spite  of  all  her  insolence,  she  now  wished  she 
had  never  come. 

The  Freiherr's  only  reply  was  a  contemptuous  wave  of  his 
hand. 

"  And  you  have  been  paying  old  Stina  for  this  cross  for 
fifteen  yeara  !"  he  said,  turning  to  the  canoness,  with  an  icy 
calm  in  words  and  manner  far  more  annihilating  than  the  most 
violent  outbreak  could  have  been.  "  Was  it  because  of  tliis 
cross  that  you  persuaded  me  to  give  the  old  vagabond  shelter 
and  protection  upon  my  estate  ?  Was  it  because  of  this  cross 
that  you,  usually  so  intolerant,  bore  with  all  her  strange  con- 
duct?    All  for  the  sake  of  this  cross?" 

Friiulein  von  Tretteu  sought  in  vain  for  words  in  which  to 
reply ;  but  words  were  unnecessary  ;  in  one  dreadful  moment 
the  whole  fatal  combination  of  circumstances  had  flashed  upon 
Otto's  mind.  He  knew  now  that  his  aunt  would  fain  have 
committed  murder,  and  for  him.  With  the  refined  delicacy 
of  sensitively  endowed  natures  which  partly  assume  the  re- 
sponsibility of  what  has  been  done  for  their  sakes,  he  felt  his 
soul  burdened  with  a  share  of  guilt,  and,  with  sufi"ering  as 
keen  as  it  was  powerless,  saw  an  insurmountable  barrier  thus 
interposed  between  Beatrice  and  himself. 

"  And  you  would  have  allowed  a  pure  innocent  girl  to  bestow 
her  hand  upon  a  murderer — her  murderer?"  he  continued, 
inexorably. 

"  Otto  !"  the  canoness  almost  shrieked.  The  Freiherr  turned 
from  her  with  contempt. 

"  No  need  to  wring  your  hands  thus,  fiend  in  human  shape 
that  you  now  seem  to  me.     If  your  heart  were  susceptible  of 


A   FA  MIL  F  FEUD.  215 

pity  yon  would  have  felt  it  for  a  child  but  three  years  old ! 
But  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  We  are  chained  together  more 
closely  than  galley-slaves.  Your  honour  is  mine, — of  course  1 
shall  pay.  Come  here,  Elsbeth."  He  opened  his  desk.  "  How 
much  will  buy  your  silence  ?" 

Piles  of  gold  glittered  in  the  compartments  of  the  drawers, 
the  entire  profits  of  the  year's  harvest,  but  for  the  moment 
the  sight  was  powerless  to  arouse  the  girl's  cupidity. 

"  Twelve  pieces  of  gold,  I  thought,"  she  stammered,  almost 
timidly;  "but  there  is  no  huriy.     If " 

Otto  interrupted  her.  "  Twelve  pieces  for  the  present,"  he 
said,  dully.  "  What  price  do  you  ask  for  perpetual  silence  ? 
My  engagement  is  of  course  at  an  end,  but  my  betrothed 
must  never  learn  wherefore.  So  ask  a  good  round  sum  for 
these  proofs,  which  must  be  given  up  to  me,  and  let  the  matter 
be  at  rest  forever.     How  much  do  you  want?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  Elsbeth,  who  was  growing  more  and  more 
uncomfortable  with  every  minute,  answered,  in  a  low  tone. 

Otto  put  his  hand  into  a  drawer  and  took  thence  a  handful 
of  notes  and  gold  without  heeding  their  amount.  "  Here, 
Elsbeth,"  he  said,  "  look  here  ;  is  this  enough  ?  or  do  you 
want  more  ?  Ask  for  all  Ermsdal,  if  you  will !  Be  quick  ! 
Is  it  enough?  or — here  is  more.     I  must  be  left  in  peace." 

"  This  is  enough,"  Brown  Elsie  said,  in  a  tremor,  covering 
the  heap  of  money  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she 
pushed  from  her  the  second  handful  which  Otto  held  out  to 
her.  She  could  not  endure  any  longer  to  look  into  his  deathly 
pale  face,  or  to  listen  to  the  words  which  nothing  but  an  agony 
that  was  almost  madness  could  have  wrung  from  so  proud  and 
reserved  a  man  as  the  lord  of  Ermsdal.  Her  end  was  gained, 
however, — his  engagement  to  Beatrice  was  broken.  She  pre- 
pared instanily  to  leave  the  spot  where  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life  she  had  experienced  a  species  of  shuddering  respect 
for  the  better  <iualities  of  human  nature. 


216  -4    FAMILY  FEUD. 

"  Is  that  enough,  then  ?"  Otto  repeated,  in  the  same  calm, 
business-like  tone.  "  Enough  for  to-day  and  for  always  ?  You 
will  never  betray  the  secret,  and  never  make  any  further  de- 
mand upon  me  ?' 

"  Never,"  Elsbeth  said,  emphatically. 

The  Freiherr  pointed  to  the  door,  through  which  Elsbeth's 
lithe,  slender  figure  instantly  made  its  escape,  and  the  two 
people  whose  intercourse  had  just  reached  so  overwhelming  a 
crisis  were  left  alone  together. 

A  long  silence  ensued.  Arning  gazed  fixedly  into  space,  and 
seemed  entirely  to  have  forgotten  the  presence  of  the  canoness. 

"  Otto,"  she  ventured  at  last  to  break  the  oppressive  silence. 

No  answer. 

"  Otto,"  she  began  again,  after  a  while,  "  do  not  stand  there 
so  stern  and  cold,  as  if  I  were  not  worthy  of  a  glance.  I 
cannot  bear  it !  Whatever  I  may  have  done,  I  did  for  your 
sake.  Your  incessant  complaints  and  petulance  drove  me  to 
it.  And  if  I  transgressed  both  human  and  divine  laws,  you 
at  least  have  no  right  to  reproach  me." 

Otto  turned  wearily  towards  her.  "Aunt,"  he  said,  slowly, 
"  you  acted  upon  a  menace  uttered  by  an  angry  boy  in  a 
moment  of  insane  agitation, — a  menace  which,  I  take  God 
to  witness,  would  never  else  have  had  any  result !  That, 
however,  does  not  alter  the  fact.  I  am  the  intellectual 
perpetrator  of  this  crime,  and  the  responsibility  of  the  inde- 
scribable misery  that  it  caused  is  mine  as  well  as  yours.  I 
therefore  do  not  reproach  you  on  account  of  my  cousin's 
untimely  death,  Beatrice's  wretched  childhood,  and  my  own 
forlorn  existence, — all  this  you  must  settle  with  your  own  con- 
science ;  but  you  cannot  but  see  that  this  hour  has  separated 
us  forever." 

"  That  means,"  the  canoness  cried  out,  in  wild  distress, 
"  that  in  return  for  all  my  aifection,  you  will  turn  me  adrift 
in  my  old  age  to  poverty  and  misery  ?" 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  217 

"  No,"  Otto  calmly  replied ;  "  you  shall  live  in  luxury 
wherever  }  ou  choose, — in  Ermsdal  if  you  will ;  but  in  that 
case  I  shall  put  the  ocean  between  us." 

"  Otto,  Otto  !"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands,  "  you  cannot 
mean  that  I  it  would  be  too  hard  !" 

Affection  for  her  nephew  seemed  to  be  the  only  kindly 
emotion  of  her  heart.  Otto,  however,  was  unmoved  by  the 
sight  of  her  grief.  "  The  sight  of  you  is  painful  to  me."  he 
said,  harshly,  "  and  I  must  have  peace,  if  I  would  live." 

The  thought  of  Beatrice,  and  of  the  happiness  he  had 
dared  to  hope  might  be  his,  suddenly  so  overcame  him  that  he 
sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Aunt 
Bernhardine  gathered  fresh  courage  from  this  first  sign  of 
human  emotion. 

"  I  will  not  go,"  she  protested.  "  Neither  entreaty  nor 
menace  shall  drive  me  from  you.  Otto.  Who  will  care  for 
you  if  you  send  away  the  only  living  creature  that  has  always 
been  true  to  you  ?  No,  I  will  stay  with  you, — there  is  nothing 
else  to  be  done.  And  if  you  cross  the  sea.  Otto,  I  will  go 
wherever  you  go,  in  spite  of  my  age  and  infirmity." 

Otto  arose,  with  stern  determination  in  his  look,  as  he  coldly 
replied,  "  Thank  God,  there  is  one  place  whither  you  cannot 
follow  me.  And  be  sure  I  will  find  some  way  to  rid  myself 
of  your  presence." 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room,  and  the  canoness  heai'd 
him  ascend  the  stairs,  enter  his  own  apartment,  and  bolt  him- 
self in. 

She  leaned  trembling  upon  the  table  for  support.  All  the 
strength  that  was  in  her  seemed  to  forsake  her  aged  frame  at 
Otto's  final  words.  Was  her  mortal  career  to  end  thus  wretch- 
edly ?  The  only  human  being  for  whom  she  entertained  any 
affection,  he  for  whom  she  had  slaved,  and  saved,  and  sinned, 
turned  from  her  with  loathing ;  no  friendly  hand  would  ever 
close  her  dying  eyes.  What  was  she  living  for  ? 
K  1<J 


218  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

She  tried  not  to  believe  wluit  she  knew  but  too  well.  She 
sent  a  servant  to  Otto  to  beg  hiin  to  see  her  once  more.  Her 
messenger  returned  to  her  in  a  few  moments,  bringing  her  a 
sealed  envelope.  Was  it  an  answer?  The  canoness  hastily 
tore  it  open  ;  it  was  filled  with  bank-notes  ;  there  was  in  it  not 
a  line  nor  a  word  from  him.  She  would  have  wept  and  ciied, 
bat  her  voice  failed  her.  She  would  have  gone  up  to  Otto's 
door,  but  her  trembling  knees  refused  her  their  support.  In 
as  few  words  as  possible  she  directed  her  astonished  maid  to 
pack  up  her  few  belongings  in  her  trunks,  and  stood  by  while 
it  was  done,  gazing  round  with  a  dull,  vacant  expression  upon 
the  walls  she  had  seen  built  and  of  which  she  was  now  taking 
so  sad  an  eternal  farewell. 

Beatrice,  meanwhile,  entirely  recovered  from  her  fright, 
greeted  the  dawning  of  the  next  day  with  delight.  It  would 
bring  Otto,  and  then  all  would  be  well.  But  hour  after  hour 
passed  on  leaden  wings,  and  he  whom  she  so  longed  for  did  not 
come. 

Over  the  lordly  old  mansion  brooded  the  shadow  of  coming 
misfortune.  The  servants  moved  noiselessly  about  the  halls 
and  the  long  corridors.  Low  whisperings  were  heard  among 
them,  quickly  silenced  at  the  approach  of  one  of  their  mis- 
tresses. Any  negligence  passed  unreproved  by  the  baroness. 
No  one  spoke  a  loud  word ;  it  was  as  if  there  had  just  been 
a  death  in  the  house. 

At  last,  towards  noon,  a  letter  arrived  from  Ermsdal.  Bea- 
trice opened  it  hurriedly — what  could  have  prevented  Otto 
from  coming  himself?  As  she  read,  the  blood  rushed  to  her 
clieek,  only  to  retreat  the  next  moment  and  give  place  to  a 
death-like  pallor.  She  could  not  control  her  voice  to  speak, 
but  silently  handed  the  note  to  her  mother. 

It  was,  in  truth,  a  most  extraordinary  letter.  There  was 
no  si":n  in  its  clear  characters  of  the  tremor  convulsing  the 


A  FAMILY  FEUD.  219 

writer's  frame  as  he  penned  it ;  no  hint  in  its  cahn  sen- 
tences of  the  torture  racking  tlie  brain  that  had  produced 
them.  Otto  briefly  and  decisively  announced  that  he  found 
himself  compelled  to  resign  all  pretensions  to  the  hand  of  the 
young  baroness,  for  reasons  which  he  begged  to  be  spared 
from  stating.  This  was  all;  there  was  no  word  of  explana- 
tion, regret,  or  excuse.  Frau  von  Arning  sat  for  one  minute 
speechless  at  this  unexpected  blow,  an  J  then  all  her  old  hatred 
of  Otto,  suddenly  called  back  to  life,  found  vent  in  a  stream  of 
angry  eloquence.  Her  estimate  of  his  character  had  been  cor- 
rect, then.  Otto  von  Arning  was  only  an  unprincipled  schemer, 
with  whom  no  means  that  might  aid  in  the  attainment  of  his 
avaricious  aims  were  either  too  base  or  too  sacred.  Murder  and 
matrimony  were  alike  in  his  eyes  if  by  either  he  might  become 
master  of  Buchdorf.  His  end  could  now  be  attained  far  more 
easily  than  by  marriage  with  a  portionless  girl.  Of  course  so 
disadvantageous  a  connection  must  be  instantly  dissolved. 

Beatrice  had  spoken  no  word  since  first  opening  her  letter. 
Her  mother's  angry  outbreak  was  met  on  her  part  only  by  a 
look  of  terrified  surprise  in  her  large  eyes.  She  turned  away 
silently  and  went  to  her  own  room.  The  window  was  open  ; 
she  went  to  it  mechanically  and  gazed  up  into  the  masses  of 
snow-clouds  that  veiled  the  heavens.  An  icy  breeze  whistled 
through  the  bare  boughs  of  the  lindens,  and  toyed  with  the 
curls  upon  her  forehead ;  she  did  not  feci  it.  Her  heart 
seemed  dead  to  pain,  anger,  or  reproach. 

She  herself  wondered  at  her  perfect  calm  and  her  entire 
capacity  for  lucid  reflection.  Some  chord  within  her  heart 
seemed  to  have  snapped  asunder,  never  again  to  vibrate  with 
either  joy  or  sorrow. 

Thus  she  stood,  immovable,  indiff"ercnt,  for  hours.  She  had 
lost  the  measure  of  time,  for  what  could  the  future  bring  her 
or  take  from  her  ?  Mechanically  she  raised  her  hand  to  her 
forehead  as  if  it  pained  her. 


220  A   FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

"  I  wish  I  had  perished  on  tlie  moor  yesterday,"  she  said, 
in  a  whisper,  and  then  she  shuddered.  Those  were  Elsbeth's 
very  words.  Did  that  incomprehensible  being  know  that 
Otto  was  about  to  resign  her?  Did  she  know  anything  of 
liis  motives?  Beatrice  in  vain  attempted  to  divine  them. 
Had  Aunt  Bernhardiue's  influence  effected  this  separation,  or 
did  Otto  love  another?  The  change  in  her  circumstances  also 
occurred  to  her ;  but  she  banished  the  thought  instantly.  It 
was  impossible  that  he  could  have  broken  with  her  for  such  a 
cause. 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  that  so  insignificant  a 
girl  as  I  could  never  really  gain  his  love ;  but  why,  oh,  why 
did  he  play  so  cruel  a  game  with  my  heart  ?" 

Her  face  burned  as  she  thought  of  her  attempt  to  go  to 
Ermsdal  the  day  before.  What  if  she  had  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  house  of  the  man  whose  heart  was  already  cold  towards 
her?  To-day  she  was  grateful  to  the  brown  elf  who  had 
prevented  the  execution  of  her  scheme. 

Towards  evening  Beatrice  saw  Herr  von  Tannen  drive  up 
the  avenue,  and  a  gleam  of  joy  irradiated  her  pale  features. 
He  was  her  mother's  friend  and  Otto's ;  his  judgment  would, 
unlike  her  mother's,  be  just  and  impartial. 

"  I  will  trust  what  he  says,"  she  thought,  as  she  slowly 
descended  the  stairs  to  the  library. 

The  kindly  old  man  had  learned  already  of  the  rupture  of 
the  engagement,  and  was  much  agitated  by  the  intelligence. 
He  had  been  to  Ermsdal  in  the  morning  to  apprise  Otto  of  the 
state  of  affairs  at  Buchdorf ;  but  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
Otto  had  refused  to  see  him.  Aunt  Bernhardine,  however, 
pale  as  death,  and  with  every  sign  of  agitation,  had  rushed 
past  him  in  the  hall.  She  was  in  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  fol- 
lowed by  a  stout  maid-servant  laden  with  boxes  and  packages. 

"  He  is  mad !"  she  had  called  out  to  the  baron,  wringing 
her   hands.     "  He   has  gone  stark  mad !     Broken  with   his 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  221 

betrothed,  with  me,  with  you.  repulsing  all  who  care  for  him ! 
Oh,  how  will  it  all  end?" 

Herr  von  Tannen  was  deeply  hurt  by  Otto's  refusal  to  see 
him,  and  in  his  agitation  he  forgot  all  his  usual  kindliness,  and 
could  not  refrain  from  agreeing  with  the  baroness  that  Otto 
could  have  been  led  to  close  his  door  upon  his  oldest  and  most 
faithful  friend  only  from  a  feeling  of  shame  for  his  dishonour- 
ible  treatment  of  his  betrothed  in  her  changed  circumstances. 
For  the  first  time  the  old  baron  and  Theresa  agreed  in  their 
estimate  of  Otto's  conduct. 

The  day  had  brought  another  unpleasant  surprise  to  The- 
resa. Simultaneously  with  Otto's  letter  to  Beatrice,  Frau 
von  Arning  had  received  the  announcement  of  Herr  von 
Lindau's  betrothal. 

Beatrice's  interference  in  his  quarrel  with  Baron  von  Arning, 
and  her  interception  of  his  letter,  had  wounded  the  young  man's 
pride  excessively,  and  had  deprived  the  "  sun  of  his  existence" 
of  all  power  of  attraction.  Arrived  in  the  capital,  he  soon  be- 
came part  of  another  solar  system, — that  is,  he  gave  his  fiery 
heart  into  the  keeping  of  a  beautiful  young  heiress,  the  belle 
of  the  first  ball  of  the  season.  His  homage  was  accepted,  and 
his  mamma  gave  her  cordial  approval  of  his  choice,  since  the 
young  lady  was  one  of  her  special  favourites.  Frau  von  Lin- 
dau,  however,  exacted  from  her  hot-headed  son  a  promise  to 
be  immediately  reconciled  to  the  man  whom  he  had  chosen  to 
consider  his  foe.  She  herself  indeed,  without  Emil's  knowl- 
edge, wrote  a  highly  flattering  epistle  to  Otto,  which  the  latter 
in  his  utter  despair  tossed  unread  into  the  fire. 

Emil's  letter  to  Frau  von  Arning,  in  addition  to  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  happy  event,  contained  a  request  for  her 
friendly  oifices  as  peacemaker  between  the  writer  and  her 
daughter's  lover. 

At  any  other  time  Frau  von  Arning  would  gladly  have 
congratulated  her  young  friend  upon  his  happy  prospects,  but 

10* 


222  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

on  this  wretclu'd  morning  his  letter  seemed  an  insult  specially 
directed  to  her  ;  there  was  not  a  line  of  it  that  did  not  provoke 
her  indignation.  It  vexed  her  that  Lindau  could  so  quickly 
replace  her  child  in  his  aifection ;  it  vexed  her  that  he  should 
proclaim  his  happiness  just  when  she  was  more  wretched  than 
ever  in  her  life  before;  and  it  vexed  her  beyond  all  that  this 
beirothfil  should  nip  in  the  bud  the  schemes  which  her  in- 
ventiv    brain  had  already  begun  to  devise. 

Thirf  subject  was,  only  lightly  of  course,  touched  upon  in 
the  conversation  between  Theresa  and  her  old  friend.  Beatrice 
stood  by,  listening  to  her  mother's  emphatic  expressions  with- 
out uttering  a  syllable.  But  when  the  baron  was  about  to  take 
his  departure,  observing  by  way  of  consolation  that  "  Heaven, 
after  all,  orders  everything  for  the  best,  and  Beatrice's  deliver- 
ance from  such  a  man  as  Arning  now  seems  to  be  is  cheaply 
purchased  by  the  loss  of  her  property,"  Friiulein  von  Arning 
followed  him  out  on  the  terrace  to  the  carriage  door. 

"  Godpapa  Tannen,"  she  said,  gravely,  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
his  face  with  intense  earnestness,  "  tell  me,  upon  your  con- 
science, do  you  believe  it  possible  that  Herr  von  Arning  rejects 
me  simply  because  I  am  not  the  heiress  he  thought  me  ?" 

The  solemnity  of  this  appeal  rather  embarrassed  her  old 
friend.  Nevertheless,  true  to  the  conviction  urged  upon  him 
by  his  indignation  at  Otto's  behaviour,  he  replied,  "  My  poor 
child,  you  know  yourself  how  highly  I  always  valued  Arning, 
and  God  forbid  I  should  do  him  injustice !  But,  painful  as  it 
is  to  me,  I  cannot  see  any  other  motive  for  his  conduct.  Do 
not  take  it  so  to  heart,  my  dear  girl !  You  are  innocent  of  all 
the  wretchedness  of  your  unftrtunate  family,  and  I  am  firmly 
convinced  that  you  will  have  ample  compensation  in  the  end 
for  these  trials  you  are  now  undergoing." 

With  no  reply  except  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  Bea- 
trice withdrew.  "  They  all  believe  him  guilty,"  she  whispered 
to  herself.    "  I  a'one  cannot  think  him  so,  although  the  hap- 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  223 

piness  of  my  life  has  gone,  never  to  return,  in  spite  of  what 
my  godfather  says.  I  could  not  endure  being  forced  to  despise 
him.     Not  that,  not  that ;  it  would  break  my  heart." 

With  such  thoughts  filling  her  mind,  the  girl  re-entered  the 
library.  The  caudles  had  not  yet  been  lighted  ;  the  large  room 
was  dark  and  silent  except  for  a  bright  fire  on  the  hearth  that 
ciackled  merrily  and  threw  a  broad  glare  of  crimson  light 
upon  the  portrait  of  the  old  Freiherr  on  the  opposite  wall, 
lending  life  to  the  features  and  foi"m  as  it  stood  out  amid  the 
surrounding  gloom.  ^ 

Beatrice  paused,  startled.  During  the  reading  of  her  father's 
last  will  she  had  kept  her  eyes  riveted  upon  this  portrait,  and 
now  when  his  kiud!y  face  suddenly  shone  out  upon  her  thus, 
those  moments  recurred  as  if  by  magic  in  her  memory.  It 
was  as  if  his  lips  uttered  the  words,  "  Learn  to  know  your 
cousin  Otto,  and  I  am  convinced  you  will  esteem  him." 

Did  she  know  him  ?  Had  she  even  an  idea  of  the  reasons 
for  his  conduct  ?  No.  Otto  was  not  of  those  who  display 
the  better  qualities  of  their  nature,  as  a  niercliant  does  his 
wares,  to  catch  the  passing  regard  of  men  ;  she  had  scarcely 
had  a  glimpse  of  his  true  inner  life.  What  cared  she  for 
any  one's  opinion,  even  that  of  Herr  von  Tannen,  upon  this 
matter?  Otto  himself  was  the  only  human  being  who  could 
tell  her  why  he  acted  thus  and  not  otherwise. 

Should  she  demand  an  explanation  from  him  ?  At  first 
she  recoiled  from  the  thought,  but  by  degrees  it  won  a  firm 
footing  in  her  heart.  She  wanted  some  key  to  the  cause  of 
all  this  unhappiness.  There  should  be  no  fresh  discord  in  her 
i'amily  from  want  of  frankness  and  confidence. 

"  No,  father,"  she  said  aloud,  involuntarily  raising  her 
clasped  hands  towards  the  portrait,  "  the  old  curse  shall  not 
be  transmitted.  One  frank,  l.onest  word  shall  remove  it 
forever." 

With  throbbing  pulses  and  breatli  coming  (juick  and  short, 


224  A    FAMTLV  FEUD. 

she  reached  lier  own  room  and  sat  down  to  wi-ite.  For  one 
moment  she  hesitated  in  genuine  womanly  confusion  at  the 
idea  of  what  Otto  would  think  of  the  step  she  was  about  to 
take.  But  her  whole  training  and  education  had  been  such 
as  to  develop  strongly  her  individuality,  and  she  had  a  large- 
ness of  nature  that  prompted  her  to  pursue  undeviatingly  a 
course  she  judged  to  be  right,  heedless  of  the  opinion  of  the 
world.  Her  hesitation  passed  away  in  a  moment;  her  pen 
flew  over  the  paper  as  she  wrote : 

"  I  must  speak  with  you,  and  can  easily  understand  that 
after  what  has  happened  you  can  scarcely  desire  to  cross  the 
threshold  of  our  home.  Still  less  can  I  visit  you  in  yours. 
Therefore,  I  pray  you  to  be  to-morrow  at  ten  o'clock  beneath 
the  King's  Oak  in  the  Repach  forest,  where  you  will  meet  me. 

"  Beatrice  von  Arning." 

Without  a  moment's  delay  she  hurried  down  the  stairs  and 
slipped  the  letter  hastily  into  the  post-bag  in  the  hall,  for  she 
was  afraid  lest  if  she  waited  longer  her  resolution  would  fail 
her.  In  half  an  hour  the  post-bag  was  carried  to  town  by 
the  post-boy,  and  the  next  morning  his  lost  love's  letter  was 
in  Otto's  hands. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

It  snowed  in  the  night,  but  towards  morning  a  brisk  wind 
sprang  up  and  drove  away  the  clouds,  so  that  a  bright  blue 
winter  sky  bent  above  the  whitened  ground.  Tlie  moor  was 
one  vast  shining  waste,  and  on  its  borders  the  King's  Oak,  with 
all  its  burden  of  a  hundred  winters,  stretched  giant  anns  above 
the  low  underbrush  about  its  feet.     It  stood  like  a  boundary- 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  225 

mark  between  the  estates  of  the  relatives  at  feud,  its  light, 
snow-clad  side  turned  towards  Buchdorf,  its  dark  side  towards 
Ernisdal.  The  snow  had  drifted  high  about  its  knees,  and  the 
path  running  beside  it  into  the  Repach  forest  looked  like  a  fine 
vein  in  delicate  white  marble.  A  wintry  silence  reigned  around. 
There  was  no  sound  of  woodland  bird,  no  hum  of  bees  upon  the 
moorland,  and,  noiseless  as  the  landscape  of  which  she  seemed 
a  part,  Brown  Elsie  was  gliding  along  the  path  towards  Buch- 
dorf. Her  feet  sank  in  the  snow  at  every  step,  and  she  hid  her 
shivering  hands  in  the  old  green  shawl  that  was  tightly  wrapped 
about  her  shoulders. 

Her  friend  Warne  had  dispatched  her  to  Buchdorf  to  see  if 
matters  there  had  taken  the  turn  he  desired.  There  was  an 
unmistakable  expression  of  sullen  discontent  in  her  large  black 
eyes  as  she  stole  along  looking  furtively  about  her.  Suddenly 
a  faint  rustling  struck  her  ear  ;  she  stopped  and  listened  ;  al- 
though the  snow  deadened  every  sound,  her  practised  sense 
detected  the  approach  of  a  man,  and  to  spy  upon  the  actions 
of  others  had  long  been  both  her  business  and  her  amusement. 
She  strained  ears  and  eyes,  and  became  aware  of  Otto  von 
Arning  in  the  distance,  advancing  on  the  same  path  with  her- 
self, walking  slowly,  his  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  evidently 
buried  in  thought. 

A  stream  was  near  at  hand ;  she  slipped  beneath  the  small 
bridge  that  crossed  it  and  hid  herself  among  the  rushes  and 
leafless  bushes.  The  Frciherr  came  nearer ;  it  did  not  escape 
her  keen  eye  thaf  the  last  two  days  had  wrought  a  wonderful 
change  in  his  appearance.  True,  his  face  had  always  been 
grave,  but  never  before  had  it  worn  so  utterly  hopeless  an  ex- 
pression. At  the  sight  Elsbeth  felt  anger  rather  than  sorrow. 
"  It  is  his  own  fault,"  she  thought,  sullenly ;  "  why  did  he 
love  the  silly  doll  ?" 

Arning  had  now  reached  the  King's  Oak  ;  to  tlie  spy's  sur- 
prise he  went  no  farther,  but  took  out  his  watch,  cast  a  glance 


22G  A    FA  MIL  r  FEUD. 

around  the  wide  plain  of  snow,  and  then  stood  leaning  against 
the  trunk  of  the  tree,  with  his  eyes  steadfastly  bent  upon  the 
ground,  as  if  to  shut  out  from  his  gaze  what  the  next  few 
minutes  were  sure  to  bring  forth. 

"  He  expects  some  one,"  Elsbeth  thought,  wonderingly. 
"  Who  can  it  be  ?" 

She  was  not  to  remain  long  in  doubt.  From  the  opposite 
direction  came  Beatrice  von  Arning,  carefully  wrapped  in  furs. 
She  walked  on  quickly  without  stop  or  stay,  like  one  who  gives 
herself  no  time  to  repent  of  some  resolve  about  to  be  carried  out. 

The  keen  morning  air  had  crimsoned  her  cheeks,  there  were 
no  traces  of  tears  in  her  eyes,  her  lovely  face  was  set  in  an  ex- 
pression of  firm  determination. 

At  her  approach  the  Freiherr  awoke  from  his  brooding 
reverie.  "  Beatrice,"  he  cried,  passionately,  making  as  if  to 
hasten  towards  her  ;  but  his  lifted  arm  fell  by  his  side.  The 
lovelier  and  more  gracious  his  love  appeared  to  him,  the  deeper 
and  more  oppressive  became  his  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness. 
Mute,  motionless,  with  downcast  eyes  he  awaited  her. 

Elsbeth  half  rose  from  her  crouching  posture,  and  strained 
every  nerve  to  the  utmost  that  she  might  lose  no  word  of  what 
was  said. 

"  You  are  surprised.  Herr  von  Arning,"  Beatrice  began,  with 
forced  firumess,  "  that  after  all  that  has  occurred  I  should 
ask  to  meet  you  here,"  and  she  glanced  timidly  around  the 
snowy  plain,  "  and  perhaps  you  have  judged  my  conduct  with 
severity.  I  might  have  written  what  I  have  to  say.  but  letters 
are  very  unsatisfactory  and  leave  so  much  room  for  ambiguity 
that  I  thought  it  best  to  learn  what  I  wished  to  know  from 
your  own  lips,  and  if  possible  on  this  spot,  where,"  she  added, 
with  a  deep  blush,  "  I  first  felt  confidence  in  a  man  whom 
until  then  I  had  regarded  as  my  implacable  enemy." 

Ilcr  voice  had  grown  low  and  somewhat  uncertain  ;  there 
was  a  perceptible  quiver  in  it  as  she  went  on : 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  227 

"  When  my  father's  last  will  was  read,  in  which  he  so 
earnestly  admonishes  us  to  learn  to  know  each  other,  I  made 
a  solemn  vow  in  my  inmost  heart  that  I  would  obey  his  desire. 
But  a  curse  seems  to  lie  like  a  spell  upon  our  unfortunate 
family,  and  I  think  nothing  can  break  it,  save — absolute  frank- 
ness. Therefore,  Herr  von  Arning,  I  entreat  you  in  my  father's 
name, — you  surely  loved  him  once, — to  tell  me  the  reasons, 
however  harsh  and  humiliating  they  may  be  for  me,  to  tell 
me  without  reserve  the  reasons  that  have  moved  you  to  this 
sudden  rupture  of  our  engagement." 

"  Anything  but  that !"  Otto  exclaimed,  as  if  awaking 
from  some  painful  dream.  "  Anything  but  that !  Be  mer- 
ciful, Beatrice !  Is  it  not  enough  that  you  are  lost  to  me 
forever?  Must  I  also  know  and  see  how  much  you  despise 
me?" 

This  passionate  outburst  amazed  the  young  girl  extremely, 
while  at  the  same  time  it  awakened  within  her  a  sensation 
that  was  unspeakably  consoling.  He  did  not,  then,  regard  her 
with  indifference.  She  replied,  with  greater  assurance,  "  I 
think  I  am  entitled  to  a  knowledge  of  your  reasons  for  so  un- 
expected and  harsh  a  dissolution  of  the  tie  between  us ;  and 
yet  I  would  resign  my  right  to  an  explanation  which  evidently 
would  cause  you  great  pain,  were  it  not  that  I  do  not  demand 
it  for  my  own  sake  alone,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  honour  of 
oui  family,  and  for  your  sake,  Herr  von  Arning.  Do  you 
know  what  motives  are  ascribed  to  you  ?  You  must  explain 
the  reason  for  your  conduct  if  you  would  save  your  honour 
from  soil." 

Otto  had  grown  as  white  as  the  snow  at  his  feet.  Had 
Elsbeth  already  betrayed  his  secret  ?  He  gazed  speechless  in 
a  kind  of  horror  at  Beatrice. 

She  too  hesitated ;  the  words  would  not  come  at  her  com- 
mand. Still  it  must  be  done.  "  Answer  me  candidly,  Herr 
von  Arning,"  she  went  on  by  a  supreme  elfort.      "  Do  you 


228  ^    FAMILY  FEUD. 

know  nothing  of  the  change  in  our  circumstances  with  wliich 
half  tlie  province  is  ringing?" 

"So  help  me  heaven,  no!"  Otto  cried,  in  amazement.  "I 
have  not  crossed  the  threshold  of  my  room  for  two  days," 
he  added,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Baron  von  Tannen  went  to  you  to  tell  you  all  that  had 
happened,"  Beatrice  explained,  "  but  you  would  not  see  him. 
To  be  brief,  my  mother  can  no  longer  retain  Buchdorf. 
Warne  has  robbed  her  and  left  her  involved  in  the  hands  of 
usurers.  Baron  von  Tannen  says  that  our  floating  capital  is 
far  from  sufiicient  to  pay  the  money  due  them,  and  the  estate 
has  been  so  impoverished  by  Warne's  neglect  that  it  is  not 
worth  half  its  former  value.  So  there  is  no  resource  left  us 
except  to  sell  it."  She  bit  her  lip  and  paused,  for  she  would 
not  for  the  world  shed  a  tear,  and  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  tears 
which  she  had  withheld  during  the  agitation  of  the  last  two 
days  were  determined  to  burst  forth  at  this  moment. 

In  listening  to  her  distressing  tale.  Otto  utterly  forgot  for 
the  moment  why  he  had  come  hither.  "  Sell  Buchdorf!"  he 
exclaimed,  with  all  his  old  energy.  "  No,  never  !  I  will  go 
back  with  you  immediately,  and  investigate  affairs  on  the  spot. 
Frau  von  Arning  knows  nothing  of  business,  and  Tannen  is 
easily  outwitted  in  money-matters.  Of  course  the  scoundrels 
have  reckoned  upon  that,  and  think  to  gain  by  sudden  impor- 
tunity what  they  could  never  obtain  legally.  I  know  Buch- 
dorf and  its  true  value.  It  has  been  badly  managed.  Warne 
was  always  a  scoundrel  in  every  respect.  But  it  can  still 
easily  sustain  an  immense  debt.  I  am  convinced  that  it  can 
be  extricated  from  these  present  embarrassments  at  a  small 
sacrifice,  so  soon  as " 

The  young  baroness  interrupted  him  with  a  deprecatory 
gesture.  "  Excuse  me,  Herr  von  Arning,"  she  said,  with  a 
contraction  of  her  delicate  brows,  "  I  did  not  come  hither  to 
complain,  still  less  to  entreat  your  aid.     I   informed  you  of 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  229 

our  present  embarrassments  solely  because  foolish  reports  coq- 
uectod  them  with  the  breaking  of  our  engagement." 

Otto  had  relapsed  into  his  former  hopeless  attitude.  "  I 
understand,"  he  replied,  sadly.  "  And  you,  Beatrice,  do  you 
believe  those  reports  ?" 

Something  like  a  smile  flitted  across  the  girl's  grave  face. 
"  Should  I  be  here  if  I  did  ?"  she  asked,  gently.  "  No, 
neither  money  nor  estate  has  part  in  what  lies  between  us." 

Otto  hastily  seized  her  hand  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 
"  Thanks,  Beatrice,"  he  said.  "  You  speak  truly.  But  my 
guilt  is  far,  far  greater " 

"  I  must  know  what  it  is,"  Beatrice  said,  firmly. 

Otto  turned  away.  "Impossible!"  he  groaned.  "Oh, 
Beatrice,  you  cannot  dream  of  the  intense  cruelty  of  such  a 
demand.  The  disgraceful  confession  you  ask  for  would  be 
hard  enough  for  me  if  made  to  any  human  being.  But  to 
be  condemned  to  read  my  sentence  in  your  eyes, — not  hell 
itself  could  inflict  a  greater  torture." 

Beatrice  saw  that  in  spite  of  his  refusal  the  Freiherr  was  seek- 
ing words  in  which  to  accede  to  her  request.  The  two  seemed 
to-day  to  have  exchanged  characters.  She,  usually  shy  and 
timid,  was  full  of  firmness  and  determination,  while  he  stood 
before  her  humbly  and  submissively.  Beatrice  was  much 
affected  by  this  change.  "  Courage,  Otto,"  she  whispered 
softly,  almost  tenderly,  laying  her  hand  lightly  upon  his  arm. 

At  last  Otto  yielded  and  began  a  long  explanation.  lie 
first  described  his  position  as  a  boy  on  the  estate  until  his 
cousin's  sudden  marriage  and  the  birth  of  Beatrice  entirely 
changed  his  prospects.  He  spoke  without  looking  up— 
fluently,  coldly  and  clearly,  like  a  judge  impartially  summing 
up  the  evidence  for  and  against  the  accused,  since  only  thus 
could  he  master  his  agitation.  He  went  on  to  describe  the 
abduction  of  the  little  heiress  in  all  its  particulars,  even  to  those 
with  which  he  had  become  acquainted  within  the  last  two  days, 

20 


230  A   FA  MIL  V  FEUD. 

and  without  either  denying  or  excusing  his  own  indirect  par- 
ticipation in  the  crime.  He  told  of  how  later  the  lovely 
child  had  crept  into  his  heart  against  his  will ;  how  at  last  he 
had  loved  her  passionately  without  admitting  it  to  himself 
until  finally  beneath  this  very  oak  his  afi'ection  for  her  and 
its  utter  hopelessness  had  been  made  manifest  to  him.  He 
had  struggled  against  it  with  all  the  force  he  could  muster, 
and  even  at  the  reading  of  her  father's  will  would  never  have 
ventured  to  seek  the  hand  of  one  so  much  younger  than  he 
had  not  her  manner  in  eivinor  him  Lindau's  letter  awakened 
in  him  the  hope  that  he  was  not  quite  indifferent  to  her. 
When  his  cousin's  last  will  enjoined  upon  him  the  fulfilment 
of  his  own  intense  desire,  he  had  not  been  able  to  resist  his 
passionate  impulse  to  woo  her,  and  although  during  the  short 
period  of  their  betrothal  he  had  had  daily  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing and  knowing  that  her  childlike  heart  was  still  ignorant  of 
love,  and  that  only  kindly  feeling  and  a  filial  desire  to  fulfil  a 
revered  father's  last  wish  had  induced  her  to  give  the  decisive 
assent,  yet  he  had  not  been  able  to  resign  the  enchanting 
dream  that  one  day  he  might  awaken  within  her  some  warmer 
feeling,  until  Elsbeth's  revelations  had  annihilated  his  hopes 
forever. 

Here  he  suddenly  and  abruptly  concluded.  During  the 
whole  time  he  had  been  speaking  he  had  never  lifted  his  eyes 
from  the  ground,  and  consequently  was  unaware  of  the  im- 
pression his  confession  had  made  upon  his  auditor. 

Her  first  painful  surprise  at  the  disappointment  her  birth  had 
occasioned  to  Otto  was  entirely  forgotten  in  the  unspeakable 
rapture  of  hearing  for  the  first  time  from  his  own  lips  how 
truly  and  passionately  he  loved  her. 

When  after  a  pause  he  broke  out  with  the  words,  "  Oh,  end 
this  torture,  Beatrice !  Speak  my  doom,  but  for  the  love  of 
mercy  be  quick  !"  she  replied,  with  unaffected  candour,  "  Your 
doom.  Otto  ?     What  have  I  cared  for  in  all  that  you  have 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  231 

said,  except  that  in  spite  of  my  unworthiness  you  really  love 
me?" 

Otto  looked  up,  but  not  yet  could  he  yield  to  the  rapture 
that  filled  him  at  sight  of  her  beaming  glance.  "  And  my 
unnatural  hatred  of  the  innocent  child,"  he  murmured,  "  and 
the  crime, and  your  sickly  childhood, and " 

"  And  the  care,"  she  eagerly  interrupted  him,  "  the  tender- 
ness you  accorded  to  the  sickly  child,  bringing  it  back  to  life 
and  health  without  one  thought  of  self.  Why  do  you  not 
speak  of  that, — proud,  haughty  man  that  you  are? — not  my 
murderer,  but  my  saviour ;  not  a  bridegroom  forced  upon  me, 

but "  and  her  lovely  face  glowed  to  the  very  temples,  yet 

she  bravely  completed  her  sentence,  "  my  only  love." 

Otto  clasped  her  passionately  to  the  heart  that  was  at  last 
healed  of  all  its  misery. 

Elsbeth  heard  no  more ;  indeed  what  followed  was  whispered 
in  so  low  a  tone  and  with  such  frequent  interruptions  that  it 
was  impossible  to  make  out  a  connected  sentence  from  all  that 
was  said.  But  when  Otto  with  his  newly-won  love  upon  his 
arm  passed  by  the  listener  on  the  path  to  Buchdorf,  she  heard 
Beatrice  say,  "  and  you  must  forgive  your  aunt,  Otto,  as  I 
do,  for  her  crime  was  but  a  proof  of  her  affection  for  you." 

Elsbeth  slowly  arose  as  the  lovers  passed  out  of  sight,  and 
without  looking  round  her  returned  to  the  moorland  hut,  the 
interior  of  which  looked  to-day  more  desolate  than  ever, 
for  beneath  the  blue-checked  curtains  of  the  bed  lay  old  Stiua, 
cold  and  dead.  A  violent  coughing-fit  had  put  an  end  to  her 
wretched  existence  in  the  middle  of  the  night ;  there  had  been 
none  to  speak  a  word  of  consolation  or  to  shed  one  tear  beside 
her ;  her  only  companion  had  been  her  black  fiivourite,  which 
lay  curled  up  upon  the  coverlet,  mewing  from  time  to  time 
as  if  in  wonder  that  the  warmth  he  was  wont  to  share  had 
uepartcd  from  his  mistress's  breast. 


23?  A   FAMILY  FEUD. 

When  Elsbcth  entered  the  hut,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  the  girl  was  filled  with  a  kind  of  weariness  of  existence. 
Many  a  one  walks  the  earth  beneath  a  heavy  burden  without 
groaning,  when  suddenly  some  apparently  insignificant  occur- 
rence will  call  forth  wild  complaints  from  him  who  has  endured 
far  worse  blows  with  apparent  indiifcrence,  as  the  one  last  drop 
will  cause  the  vessel  filled  to  the  brim  to  overflow.  Otto's  re- 
union with  his  love  had  been  this  last  drop  for  Elsbeth, 

From  her  childhood  she  had  scarce  known  anything  saA'e 
evil  at  the  hands  of  her  fellow-mortals,  and  as  she  grew  up  she 
had  learned  to  return  this  evil  with  interest,  but  negligently, 
instinctively,  as  some  species  of  wild  beasts  habitually  kill  three 
times  as  much  prey  as  they  can  devour.  The  Arning  family 
feud  had  first  inspired  her  with  genuine  interest ;  her  heart  had 
made  itself  felt  in  hatred  of  Beatrice,  in  love  for  the  Freiherr. 
She  had  done  all  that  she  could  to  separate  them,  yet  now 
when  they  were  more  truly  united  than  ever  she  was  not  even 
tempted  to  be  angry.  She  seemed  to  herself  transformed. 
Beatrice's  words  still  sounded  in  her  ears,  "  you  must  forgive 
your  aunt,  as  I  do."  Elsbeth  had  heard  such  words  before, 
and  had  sneered  at  them  as  hypocritical,  but  she  could  not 
doubt  that  these  were  genuine  and  true. 

She  confessed  involuntarily  that  she  who  could  thus  forgive 
must  be  vastly  better  than  herself.  The  tears  came  into  her 
eyes.  She  was  overcome  by  a  kind  of  compassion  for  herself,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life, — alas,  too  late ! — she  cast  a  glance 
that  was  almost  tender  towards  her  grandmother,  the  woman 
who  had  ill-treated  her  as  long  as  her  strength  would  permit, 
and  whose  unkindness  she  had  repaid  in  kind.  She  was  filled 
with  something  like  remorse.  She  seemed  to  see  in  the  image 
of  the  dead  a  picture  of  her  own  future.  Thus  homeless  and 
restless  she  should  roam  through  the  world,  thus  lonely  live, 
and  thus  forsaken  and  unwept  die. 

"  Poor  grandmother,"  she  muttered,  "  you  spoke  truth  when 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  233 

you  said  that  there  were  laws  for  the  rich  and  happy  different 
from  those  which  we  must  obey.  It  is  not  hard  to  be  good 
when  every  one  is  good  to  us,"  she  continued,  lifting  her  head 
with  a  kind  of  defiance  in  her  air.  "  If  I  had  been  treated 
kindly,  or  if  any  human  being  had  loved  me,  I  might  have  been 
something  better  than  I  am;  but  now  it  is  too  late !" 

She  started  at  her  own  words.  "Too  late  !"  she  repeated. 
"  I  am  but  twenty  years  old  !  No,  it  is  not  too  late.  I  will 
go  to  America,  where  no  one  knows  me.  Men  are  all  equal 
there,  and  rich ;  they  will  be  kind  to  me." 

She  hurriedly  removed  the  stone  from  the  hearth,  be- 
neath which  lay  old  Stina's  hoardings  and  the  money  she  had 
herself  received  from  Otto. 

The  richest  peasant  girl  in  Ermsdal  could  not  lay  claim  to 
as  wealthy  a  dowry  as  this  ragged  beggar-maid  held  in  her 
little  brown  hands.  Yet  spite  of  her  riches  no  peasant  would 
have  dreamed  of  taking  to  his  home  as  a  bride  the  outcast 
grandchild  of  old  Stina,  nor  did  Elsbeth  herself  covet  any 
Buch  fate. 

She  had  scarcely  finished  counting  her  store  and  hiding  it 
away  in  the  folds  of  her  old  wrap,  when  Warne  entered  the 
hut,  and  started  in  surprise  at  finding  the  girl  there. 

"  What,  you  here,  Elsbeth  ?  he  asked,  hastily.  "  You  must 
have  flown,  to  be  back  already  from  Buchdorf." 

"  No,  I  have  not  flown,"  she  replied,  as  curtly  as  ever,  "  nor 
have  I  been  to  Buchdorf.  I  learned  all  I  wanted  to  know  on 
the  road  thither,  but  it  will  hardly  be  much  to  your  liking. 
Your  Friiulein  has  made  it  all  up  with  our  master." 

"  Death  and  damnation!"  exclaimed  the  steward.  "Either 
you  lie,  or  you  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying !" 

He  had  been  rejoiced  that  Elsbeth's  revelations  had  sepa- 
rated the  lovers,  for  he  had  private  doubts  as  to  whether  the 
loss  of  Buchdorf  would  alone  have  sufl&ced  to  do  so. 

''  I  see  no  reason  for  lying,"  the  girl  coolly  replied,  "  and  I 
2U"- 


234  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

have  eyes  and  ears  that  usually  know  what  they  arc  seeing  and 
hearing.  They  made  it  all  up  beneath  the  King's  Oak.  I  was 
hidden  under  the  bridge,  and  heard  every  word.  Take  oiy 
advice,  Ilerr  Warne,  and  pack  up  your  trunk,  the  sooner  the 
better,  for  our  master  has  gone  to  Buchdorf  to  look  into  your 
books.  And  although  that  old  fool  Tannen  and  the  conceited 
Frau  Baroness  have  looked  in  vain  for  what  will  tie  a  rope 
about  your  neck,  Baron  von  Arning  will  be  sure  to  do  it. 
Your  ruin  in  this  world  is  as  sure  as  your  damnation  in  the  next, 
my  good  friend." 

Warne  did,  in  truth,  seem  entirely  overwhelmed  by  the 
girl's  revelation.  He  stood  motionless,  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  ground,  his  face  ashy  pale,  and  made  no  reply  to  Elsbeth's 
advicj. 

The  girl  watched  him  narrowly;  at  last  she  approached  him 
and  laid  her  hand  familiarly  upon  his  arm.  "  I  have  stood 
by  you  honestly,  Warne,"'  she  said,  with  unwonted  gentleness. 
"  Be  kind  to  me  now,  and  do  not  leave  me  behind  when  you 
cross  the  sea  to  that  rich  and  happy  America." 

The  man  turned  upon  her  in  a  fury.  "  Oh,  I  am  to  take 
you  with  me!"  he  sneered.  "Are  you  mad?  How  do  you 
know  that  I  am  going  to  America  ?  And  how  dare  you  tell 
me  to  my  face  that  an  examination  of  my  books  can  do  me 
any  harm  ?" 

Her  momentary  gentleness  had  nowise  weakened  Elsbeth's 
penetration.  She  now  folded  her  arms,  and,  standing  opposite 
the  steward,  laughed  in  her  old  provoking  manner. 

"  Softly,  softly,  my  fine  fellow.  Do  you  ask  how  I  dare  ? 
Look  there.  Behind  those  curtains  where  my  grandmother 
now  lies  dead,  I  have  passed  many  an  interesting  moment  while 
she  was  dealing  with  Messrs.  Aaron,  Levi,  and  Katzenberg, 
and  I  chanced  to  be  there  also  when  you  came  to  arrange  your 
little  surprise  for  the  haughty  Frau  Baroness.  In  addition,  I 
saw  the  use  to  which  you  put  your  blazing  fire  the  night  before 


A    FAMILY  FEUD.  235 

you  left  Buchdorf, — it  is  a  shame  the  shutters  in  that  old  house 
will  not  close  tightly.  The  ashes  you  made  lie  buried  beneath 
the  three  lindens  at  Repach.     What  do  you  say  to  my  paying 

a  visit  to  the  authorities  at  M and  volunteering  a  little 

information?  Could  I  procure  you  board  and  lodging  at  the 
public  expense  ?    Aye  or  no  ?" 

"  Viper  !"  the  steward  ground  out  between  his  teeth,  stamp- 
ing his  foot  in  unavailing  anger. 

"  What  could  lead  you  to  imagine,"  the  girl  continued  with 
quiet  contempt,  "  that  I  would  have  dealings  with  men  of  your 
stamp  without  the  reins  to  guide  them  well  gathered  up  into 
my  hands  ?  You  see  it  would  hardly  be  prudent  to  leave  me 
behind  you.  Besides,"  she  said,  with  a  haughty  toss  of  her 
head,  "  I  do  not  ask  any  alms  of  you.  I  am  rich,  richer  than 
you  think.     My  grandmother  has  left  me  gold  enough." 

At  this  mention  of  her  possessions  there  was  a  dull  glimmer 
in  the  steward's  eyes ;  he  bitterly  regretted  that  his  anger  at 
the  annihilation  of  all  his  schemes  should  have  so  startled  him 
out  of  his  smooth  amiability  of  deportment,  and  tried  to  atone 
for  his  harsh  words. 

"  It  is  not  the  expense  that  I  think  of,  you  foolish  girl," 
he  said,  with  an  air  of  dignified  magnanimity.  "  I  would 
willingly  have  offered  you  a  place  in  the  vessel  if  I  had  sup- 
posed you  were  in  earnest  about  going.  I  now  see  that  you 
are  so,  and  in  fdct  you  are  right.  And  I  had  better  go — you 
are  right  there  too.  Yes,  we  will  go  together.  I  will  accord 
you  ray  protection.  Be  quick  then,  child,  and  get  ready — we 
have  no  time  to  lose." 

Elsbeth  laughed  scornfully.  "  That  is  as  it  should  be,"  she 
said  with  a  nod.  "  I  like  you  thus.  You  are  quite  clever 
enough  to  know  that  it  is  better  to  have  Brown  Elsie  for  a  friend 
than  an  enemy.  Speak  good  honest  German  to  nie  always. 
I  never  know  what  you  would  be  at  with  your  fine  words." 

She  then  ste]>pcd  to  the  bedside  and  put  into  her  grand- 


236  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

mother's  cold  bund  some  pieces  of  gold, — enough  to  ensure 
the  old  woman  a  decent  burial.  Then  she  untied  the  goat, 
and  stroking  the  old  black  cat,  took  down  from  the  chimney 
the  flitch  of  bacon  and  left  it  on  the  ground  for  the  poor 
animal's  support. 

After  attending  to  all  this,  Elsbeth  wrapped  herself  in  her 
grandmother's  old  striped  shawl,  and,  accompanied  by  the 
steward,  departed  from  the  scene  of  her  joyless  childhood. 

The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  the  snow  crackled  beneath  the 
feet  of  the  silent  pair.  As  they  reached  the  forest,  Elsbeth 
turned  for  one  long,  last  look  over  her  beloved  moor.  Alas ! 
she  did  not  dream  that  she  was  bidding  farewell  to  what  would 
hereafter  seem  to  her  a  very  Paradise.  True,  she  had  here 
suffered  enough  of  hunger  and  pain,  but  what  was  it  all  in 
comparison  with  the  wretched  future  that  awaited  her  on  the 
other  side  of  the  world,  in  the  clutches  of  so  unprincipled  a 
wretch  as  Warne  ! 

Otto  had  been  perfectly  right  in  surmising  that  the  baroness's 
entire  inexperience  and  her  isolated  position  had  emboldened 
the  three  usurers  to  act  as  they  had  done.  The  complication 
in  her  affairs  was  disentangled  with  ease,  as  soon  as  his  energy 
and  his  credit  were  brought  into  play  in  her  behalf,  and  his 
clear  head  detected  at  a  glance  several  discrepancies  in  Warne's 
books,  apparently  insignificant,  which  were  quite  sufficient  to 
enable  him  to  institute  legal  proceedings  against  the  faithless 
steward. 

But  all  efforts  made  by  the  police  throughout  the  province 
were  fruitless  to  produce  the  criminal  ;  he  had  disappeared. 

An  emigrant  returning  to  Buchdorf  several  years  afterwards 
reported  that  he  had  seen  him  in  the  California  mines ;  but 
this  was  the  last  trace  of  him  ever  discovered.  Nothing  was 
ever  afterwards  heard  of  either  himself  or  Brown  Elsie  in 
their  old  home. 


A   FAMILY  FEUD.  237 

Some  peasant  girls  who  secretly  visited  the  moorland  hut 
to  ask  counsel  of  Mother  Stina  found  her  corpse  as  Elsbcth 
had  left  it,  and  thanks  to  the  money  left  by  her  grandchild 
the  poor  old  creature  received  decent  burial. 

No  one  of  the  superstitious  country-fulk  ventured  to  take 
possession  of  the  dwelling  or  of  the  scanty  furniture  it  con- 
tained, and  thus  the  moorland  hut  remained  for  a  long  time 
unchanged  both  in  interior  and  exterior,  unvisited  by  any 
human  being. 

The  black  cat  alone  glided  continually  in  and  out  of  the 
open  door,  each  day  becoming  wilder  and  thinner,  vainly 
seeking  warmth  on  the  cold  hearth,  until  he  was  found  one 
morning  frozen  dead  beneath  the  stunted  birch  where  he  had 
never  omitted  each  evening  to  await  his  mistress's  return. 

After  matters  were  once  more  in  a  prosperous  way  at  Buch- 
dorf,  Baron  Otto  had  the  old  hut  pulled  down,  and  turned 
his  energies  towards  the  improvement  of  the  marshy  waste, 
that  the  moor  which  had  played  so  unedifying  a  part  in  the 
family  history  of  the  Von  Arnings  might  be  a  source  of  bless- 
ing to  future  generations. 

One  year,  after  their  happy  reunion.  Otto  brought  home  his 
bride,  but  not  to  the  house  that  had  impressed  her  so  un- 
pleasantly. In -its  stead  there  was  a  charming  villa  on  the 
borders  of  the  forest,  now  transformed  into  a  picturesque  park, 
and  the  doors  of  the  new  home  were  as  hospitably  open  as 
the  old  tower  had  formerly  been  sternly  closed  to  all  the 
country  round.  Theresa  delights  to  arrange  there  all  kinds 
of  festivities  and  social  entertainments.  She  is  enthusias- 
tically fond  of  her  son-in-law,  and  has  gained  much  in  power 
of  attraction  since  the  humiliation  to  which  her  misplaced 
confidence  brought  her  has  lessened  her  proud  self-reliance. 

Beatrice  will  always  be  the  petted  child  we  first  knew 
her.  The  Freiherr,  still  grave  and  reserved  to  others,  fairly 
idolizes  her,  and  yields  to  her  every  wish.     It  was  due  to  her 


238  A    FAMILY  FEUD. 

influence  that  he  sought  out  the  canoness,  who  had  sullenly 
withdrawn  to  a  small  provincial  town.  But  it  was  too  late. 
Otto  was  only  just  in  time  to  assure  her  of  his  forgiveness, 
and  to  close  her  weary  eyes. 

The  entire  neighbourhood  rejoiced  at  the  happy  termination 
of  the  Von  Arniug  family  feud,  but  no  one  was  made  so 
thoroughly  happy  by  it  as  old  Herr  von  Tannen. 

His  "  child  of  gold,"  as  he  was  wont  to  call  Beatrice,  rose 
even  still  higher  in  his  estimation,  and  he  is  never  weary  of 
telling  to  all  who  will  listen  how  she  succeeded  where  he  had 
striven  for  years  in  vain.  "  And  it  was  quite  natural  that  it 
should  be  so,"  he  always  adds ;  "  we  outsiders  can  do  nothing 
in  family  quarrels,  even  although  we  speak,  as  my  poor  friend 
did,  from  the  grave.  No,  the  only  magic  wand  that  can  re- 
unite a  family  at  feud  is  entire  confidence  and  thorough 
frankness  on  the  part  of  its  individual  members." 


THE    END. 


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Two  Charming  Novels, 

By  the  Author  of  "The  Initials." 

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BULWER'S  NOVELS 


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Each  Complete  in  One  Volume. 


THE   CAXTONS. 

PELHAM. 

EUGENE  ARAM. 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS. 

LUCRETIA. 

DEVEREUX. 

THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  POMPEII. 

RIENZI. 

GODOLPHIN. 

A   STRANGE   STORY. 


ZANONI. 
HAROLD. 

LEILA,    PILGRIMS     OF    THE 
RHINE,  AND  CALDERON. 
NIGHT   AND   MORNING. 
ERNEST   MALTRAVERS. 
ALICE. 

PAUL  CLIFFORD. 
THE  DISOWNED. 
PAUSANIAS,  THE  SPARTAN. 


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MY   NOVEL.        WHAT   W^ILL   HE   DO  WITH   IT? 


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THE   GLOBE   EDITION. 

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T3(3 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


Series  9482 


